


In Sickness and in Health (but hopefully mostly health)

by Nevermakemeblue



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Basically, Bottom Stan, But also, College, F/M, First Time, Flashbacks, House Party, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Stenny - Freeform, Top Stan, Verse Stan, mentions of Kyman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermakemeblue/pseuds/Nevermakemeblue
Summary: “Yeah asshole. Who other than Kenny gets an STD within a month of going to college?” Stan Marsh has chlamydia, an existential crisis, a roommate who's way more trouble than he's worth, and an obligation to contact all of his past sexual partners to tell them the good news. Well it's not so bad.  There's nothing like reliving all your past mistakes to remind you of how much you've screwed yourself in the present.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Of all the fandoms to stick with me into my twenties, it had to be South Park. This was inspired by the Netflix series Love Sick which you should really all watch. It's very funny.

“Looks like it’s positive.”

Stan’s brain must have short circuited because he was at least 70% sure he’d misheard her. Staring blankly at the woman before him, Stan tried to think of an answer that didn’t sound completely and utterly ridiculous.

“You don’t sound very positive.”

He failed.

The woman before him stared at him, clicking her tongue in a way that Stan was fairly sure they were trained not to at medical school. He told himself that this wasn’t his fault. The miserable bat was clearly two cups of coffee away from her usual average so it looked like bitch was on the menu today at University of Colorado Boulder Medical Centre.

“That’s because it’s not Mr. Marsh. I’m afraid you’ve tested positive for chlamydia. The good news is it’s perfectly manageable, we’ll be putting you on antibiotics immediately. Give it a week and you’ll be good as new.” 

God damn, never mind his dick, this was making his head hurt. Without looking, Stan curled the edges of the leaflet he now held. From it, tiny, ethnically diverse, little people smiled up at him promising him all the wonders of safe sex. Well, it was probably too late for that.

“You will, of course, have to let all of your past sexual partners know so they can get tested too.” 

Oh fuck.

Cringing, Stan looked away from his safe sex people to once again face the judgement of his doctor.

“Do I have to?” He regretted asking almost immediately as her face all but turned to stone.

“This isn’t a joke Mr. Marsh. If untreated chlamydia can lead to infertility. If this makes you so uncomfortable perhaps you will think twice before foregoing protection next time.”  
She said turning to her form and then to Stan with possibly the fakest smile he had ever seen in his life. “Now then, let’s examine the damage shall we?”

Staring at her some more didn’t make her change her mind and so reluctantly, Stan’s hands went to his belt.

\---  
Ten minutes.

Ten minutes and Kenny McCormick was still laughing. Clutching the table for support, he looked to Stan apologetically only to break down once more at the grimace on his face.

“You can stop laughing anytime Ken.” Stan grumbled into his coffee. Kenny relaxed at his words, drawing in deep breaths to keep it at bay.

“I’m sorry man. You’re right it’s not funny.” He admitted, still breathless from his laughter. “It’s just “maybe think twice before foregoing protection next time” that’s fucking cold man. Talk about burning sensation.” And he was off again.

Stan watched his friend break down again and considered the surprisingly accurate imitation he’d done of that frankly terrible doctor. Kenny must have seen her before. That was hardly a surprise.

“Did she give you the cards?” Kenny asked a moment later, finally settling down. Stan nodded dumbly, reaching into his bag and placing the modest pile of postcards on the table between them. Stamped with the logo of the medical centre and the university coat of arms, the cards were surprisingly formal. Addressed to “whom it may concern” for fucks sake. They were painful to read.

“I can’t give people these.” Stan said, picking them up disdainfully but Kenny only shrugged.

“Why not? It’s time efficient. Plus this way it’s not in person. Less chance of them trying to kill you that way.” He said, only slightly sarcastically. Stan only cringed more, burying his head in his forearms and Kenny must have finally taken pity on him because a warm hand reached for him, playfully ruffling his hair.

“Hey don’t worry about it dude. It’s chlamydia. That’s, like, the kiddie pool of STDs.” He reassured, chuckling at Stan’s incredulous scoff. “I swear man. Get back to me when you have something real like herpes.”

“Jesus Christ, Kenny stop talking.”

But, of course, he didn’t.

“So who you gonna tell first?” He asked. Stan sat up again to look Kenny in the eye.

“I figure start with the easy one.”

Kenny merely nodded understandingly.

“Kyle.”

\---  
Easy in this situation really was a generous term. Kyle was a dear old friend, a super best friend. They’d both been young and inexperienced when they’d messed around. If anyone was going to understand, it would be Kyle.

Having said that however, his temper, if anything, had only got worse with college. Stan blamed the stress, Political Science and International Affairs was no joke.  
The phone rang twice before it was picked up and the rough and familiar face popped up on the screen.

“Stan? What the hell do you want?”

Eric Cartman was no joke either.

“Hey dude, is Kyle there?” Stan asked and had to pull away as Cartman shouted down the hallway for his roommate. He heard the approaching footsteps just as Cartman said his parting words.

“You have fifteen minutes assholes, then I’m cutting the power. You keep running up the damn electric bill.” He also heard the muted reply of Cartman being told to fuck off before Kyle butted his way onto the screen.

“Hey Stan, what’s up?” Thankfully, Kyle looked ok for once. He and Cartman must have been on a good day, few and far between as they were.

“Hey man, so you’re not going to like this.”


	2. Kyle

_One year earlier_

It was well past ten pm when Kyle opened the front door of the Broflovski home to a very satisfied and out of breath Stan Marsh.

“Stan.”

“Kyle.”

Grinning broadly, Stan pushed past him. With a quick shout of greeting to Kyle’s parents, Stan began pounding up the stairs and really, all Kyle could do was shut the door and follow.

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Kyle took in his friend who had collapsed on the bed.

“Dude, have you been jogging?” Because Stan wasn’t just out of breath, he was sweaty and dressed in tracks and trainers.

“You know it.” He grinned, laughing at the adorably perplexed look on Kyle’s face.

“It’s half past ten.”

“Yeah man. Midnight stroll except adrenalin. I feel freaking awesome.” Kyle couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Are you sure you don’t mean insane?” He asked, laughing even louder when Stan threw a pillow at him. Kyle caught it and effortlessly returned the favour. “So what’s with the late night escapades? You on a new fitness regime?” Kyle asked, settling on the bed across from him. Even though Stan knew he could tell him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Not now, anyway. Instead he scoffed.

“Who me? No way, man. Fittest guy in South Park.”

Kyle seemed to genuinely consider this.

“Ambitious claim but go on.” Stan just shrugged.

“There is currently a PC party going on in my house and Dad kicked me out the house so his friend could “crush some puss” in my room.” He said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible but concern streaked Kyle’s face anyway. “Dude, you should’ve just come here.” He said. Stan nudged him with his foot.

“But I did come here.” He said in what he hoped as an encouraging tone. Kyle considered him for a while, seemingly assessing just how upset Stan was. As uncomfortable as it was, Stan could not help but find it endearing how seriously Kyle took his wellbeing. He cared so much and Stan wanted desperately not to take advantage of that. But sometimes you just needed your friend.

“Alright, come on.” Kyle said. Reaching a decision, he rose to his feet and immediately pulled his pyjamas off. Stan’s eyebrows shot up as he watched his friend strip down to nothing in front of him. Ok he didn’t need this much comfort.

“Dude, Kyle, what are you doing?” Glancing over his shoulder, Kyle gave him a questioning look before catching on and rolling his eyes.

“No, you asshole, we’re going to race.”

“Race?” Stan repeated dumbly and felt his heart drop as Kyle’s smile grew wider and much more daring.

“That’s right ‘fittest guy in South Park’.” He smirked, shrugging on a shirt and sweatpants. “Show me what you got.”

At this point they really were verging on midnight escapades. Stan let himself be dragged outside again and Kyle did not stop until they reached the end of the road. Then they ran back and forth up the road at full sprint until Stan lost track of time. Whenever they stood shaking and breathless, leaning on each other for support, Stan would straighten up, roll his shoulders back and look to Kyle.

“Again?” Kyle gave him that smile again that made Stan’s chest clench. It wasn’t love (well, he didn’t think it was love) but in that moment, watching Kyle run himself down just to make him feel better, Stan felt so much affection that he didn’t know what to do.

They collapsed just outside of Kyle’s house, both too exhausted to move let alone speak. So they just sat in the middle of the road, arms touching, staring at the sky. Everything looked yellow in the streetlight, filtering the grass and houses in the darkness. Beyond the lights though, the sky was a vacuum. There were no stars that night but the moon Stan was going to remember for months. It was larger, brighter than he had ever seen it before. The streetlights didn’t stand a chance and neither did Stan.

“You’re staying at my place tonight.” Kyle’s voice was firm as he said it but Stan wouldn’t have argued either way.

“Ok.” He wasn’t sure what came over him but slowly and calmly he reached for Kyle’s hand. Immediately, Kyle tensed in a way that sent shivers of regret up Stan’s arm, but then he relaxed. Narrow fingers were intertwining his and suddenly everything felt better. They sat in silence until their breathing stabilised and then a little while longer after that. Stan was trying not to think about it. About his parents. About his friends. About Kyle. So he didn’t.

“My ass is going numb.” So much for romantic mood. Stan snorted, releasing Kyle’s hand to push himself to his feet. Kyle quickly followed.

“I think it’s time to go inside.” Stan said, grinning broadly to which Kyle wrinkled his nose.

“It’s time to shower, dude. Can you not smell you?” Stan just laughed.

“Hate to break it to you, but you’re no rose garden either.” They ran inside, thundering up the stairs so loudly that Sheila yelled at them. She hadn’t done that since they were ten and still got excited about playing video games in Kyle’s room. Now verging on eighteen, Stan and Kyle rarely had excitement. Terrifying, life threatening anxiety, yeah that still happened weekly in their town but for Stan to genuinely look forward to something was rare. It seemed ridiculous that the thing to bring back his excitement was just the idea of kicking it with his friend.

Both of them had stripped their shirts by the time they reached the bathroom. Kyle was just turning on the shower, feeling the stream of water for warmth when he turned and noticed Stan behind him.

“Are you planning on doing this together?” He asked, unimpressed. The look Stan gave him was utterly shameless.

“That was the idea.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. For a moment something unintelligible flickered in Kyle’s eyes.

“Get in, you asshole. I’ll go in after.” Kyle said and slipped past him to make room. Stan hummed thoughtfully but wasn’t entirely surprised.

“You know you call me asshole a lot.”

“Well, if the shoe fits.” Stan snorted, whipping his towel at his friend, and Kyle’s self-satisfied smirk turned quickly into a startled yelp. Flipping him off, he left the bathroom, leaving Stan to his thoughts and the realisation that he hadn’t been entirely joking.

Kyle and Stan had never hooked up before. They had kissed before at parties but anytime it went further than that one of them (usually Kyle, he was the sensible one) would regain their senses and back off. Stan always grimaced at how basic it really was. They were horny teenagers on the last leg of a sexuality crisis. Getting drunk and making out at parties was pretty much expected of them. Having said that, last time it had gone just a little too far when the kissing hadn’t been enough anymore and the grinding and panting had begun.

He hadn’t been able to think at the time. It wasn’t until afterwards that he thought, given maybe two more minutes, Stan would have cum in his pants like he hadn’t done since he was thirteen. It was a terrifying thought to think maybe it wasn’t enough anymore. But then he could not even remember the last time he’d actually had sex so maybe it wasn’t Kyle. Maybe it was him. And if that was true, was it worth risking seventeen years of friendship?

Usually when Stan slept over at the Broflovski house, Kyle would set him up with an air mattress on the floor. This time, when he came back into the room there was nothing waiting for him but a pair of pyjama shorts.

“Ike’s away on some piano camp. He took the mattress with him.” Kyle said, not meeting Stan’s eyes. “I’d offer you his bed but I’m pretty sure he’d smother me in my sleep if he found out.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” Stan said with a shrug. He was surprised to see how sheepish his friend looked. It wasn’t like them to be so uncomfortable with each other. It pained Stan to think that whether they wanted to or not, a change had already taken place in their friendship. “Do you mind?”

Kyle looked at him. His skin flushed pale in the bedside light but there was no hesitation in his look. Only anticipation.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Stan made sure he heard the click of the door shut before he let the full force of panic wash over him. They were going to do this. Were they going to do this? What if Stan was misreading the whole thing?

Dropping onto the bed, Stan ran his hands through his hair, gripping the roots.

“Get it together, Marsh.” He muttered to himself. What the hell was he freaking out for? They’d held hands not blown each other. Chances were nothing was going to happen. Even if Stan wasn’t some blushing virgin, he knew for a fact that Kyle was. He’d told him as much. Stan also knew that Kyle probably didn’t want it happening this way, not with his parents watching TV downstairs. No, Stan was freaking out over nothing. This was just Kyle. They were going to hang out, talk, and then fall asleep just like they always did.

“Stan?” Kyle was stood in the doorway in his pyjamas and a towel around his neck. His skin seemed to still be steaming from the shower and for a moment Stan was mesmerised. “Are you folding my clothes?”

“No.” He was. Snorting at the blatant lie, Kyle sat on the bed facing him, nudging Stan and his pile of clothes away with his foot.

“Make room, Stan. This is my bed remember?” He said and Stan huffed dramatically, not even noticing as the clothes toppled to the floor.

“Aren’t I the guest here?” He asked, kicking Kyle back in kind, grinning when he fell against the headboard.

“Yeah, maybe ten years ago. Now you’re just an interloper.” Never one to step down from a challenge, planted his foot firmly on Stan’s chest and pressed him away with a smug smirk. Only Stan had seen it coming and he’d never been one for losing either. Gripping Kyle’s ankle, he held it to his chest, slowly leaning over Kyle.

“You invited me.” He murmured and that couldn’t be his voice because Stan sounded happy... flirty. He sounded turned on.

“I did, didn’t I?” Stan felt his stomach flip at the way Kyle was looking at him, daring him to do something. Tracing his thumb thoughtlessly over the bump of Kyle’s ankle, he watched the skin rise up his leg. Without thinking, he pushed himself closer, between Kyle’s legs, pulling his ankle to rest on his shoulder. He nuzzled against Kyle’s calf driven only by the overwhelming need to taste the skin beneath him. He worked his way up Kyle’s leg in small bites and kisses, relishing at the smalls gasps and shivers he elicited from his friend. First his calf, then the think skin of his knee, then his thigh.

“Ah!” Kyle gave a jolt as Stan bit him not too lightly on the inside of his thigh. He raised his head to glare at him but Stan only chuckled, rubbing his hand apologetically along Kyle’s other leg.

“God, I want to fuck you so bad.” It took them a moment to register his words but both of them froze instantly when they did, looking to one another in surprise. None of the playful atmosphere was left in the room. Stan and Kyle were just staring at each other, waiting for the other to act first.

“Ok.” Kyle breathed. Stan almost didn’t believe it.

“Really?” He asked and he must have sounded like a total idiot because next thing Kyle was laughing.

“Yeah, really.” There was that smile again that made Stan’s chest ache.

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to go on a date first or something? Like, it’s your first time and I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything. We could just hang out.” He rambled and Kyle just rolled his eyes.

“Oh my god. Stan, you’re ruining the mood.” He griped, reaching for him. “Just come here.” Stan was more than happy to follow, letting the hands on his jaw guide him into the kiss. Stan let the leg on his shoulder drop back to the bed so he could inch closer into the kiss. And everything was just so much better sober. Stan felt the pads of Kyle’s fingertips gracing his jaw, how perfect the whisper of Kyle’s lips was against his. They weren’t sloppy this time, more careful, barely touching, barely kissing.

Stan was almost terrified to touch him so he kept his hands safely to the territory of Kyle’s legs. This wasn’t like his first time. That time neither he nor Wendy had known what they were doing; they had clumsily explored together. This time Stan was in charge. He had to make it perfect for Kyle. So he kept his kisses light and his touches like feathers.

A frustrated groan startled Stan into drawing back. Confused, he looked at Kyle to see that he was frowning directly at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not some porcelain doll, Stan. You don’t have to be so gentle.” Stan frowned, leaning back onto his haunches.

“But it’s your fi...”

“First time. Trust me, I know dude, and you know what I want from my first time?” Stan shook his head. “I want passion, Stan. I want someone who can’t keep their hands off me. Not someone who’s scared to touch me.” Kyle rose to his knees as he spoke. Sliding his hands onto Stan’s shoulders, he spread his legs to straddle him. Stan grasped his hips, looking into Kyle’s eyes. He was looking down at him, eyes hooded as he unknowingly bit his lip. God, he probably had no idea how hot he looked like this. Kyle moved his hips rhythmically against him and Stan tightened his grip on his friend’s hips, hanging on as their cocks rubbed together.

“Don’t you want me, Stan?” Kyle breathed right against his neck, fingers lacing into his hair. With nothing but thin boxers between them, Stan felt every inch of him and his stomach jolted to realise Kyle was hard and rubbing against him. Stan squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the crook of Kyle’s neck as he felt himself harden under his touch.

“Fucking hell, Kyle.” He gasped, running his tongue up Kyle’s neck.

“Is that a yes?” Why was he even still talking? Stan couldn’t even concentrate. All he could do was reach his hands around to grab Kyle’s ass and pull his closer, meeting every one of his thrusts with a grind.

“Yes.” He said breathily, letting his lips blindly find Kyle’s. “Fuck yes.” The kiss was nothing like before. The caution was gone and Stan was free to respond to every coax and wordless command that Kyle sent to him. Letting it get a little messy, Stan reached his hands between them, feeling his cock surge at the damp hardness of Kyle. With a needy groan, Stan let go, pushing Kyle back against the sheets. Kyle yelped in surprise at the sudden loss of stability, but it quickly turned into moans when Stan pulled his underwear down and his mouth immediately found his cock.

Stan licked and sucked with no finesse. He had never done it before, all he could rely on was the faint memory of lips on himself. But when Kyle gripped his hair, hips keening forward in search of friction, Stan pushed further, knowing only he wanted to hear more of him.

He pulled away when he felt Kyle’s hand brush his cheeks, pulling him away and back to face him. Smiling at him reassuringly, Kyle reached over to his bedside table and rummaged through the drawers. He pulled back, pressing a tube of lube into Stan’s hands. Stan did a double take, looking slowly to Kyle but his friend merely nodded with a small smile.

“I trust you, Stan.” The lube was cool and sticky against his fingers and smelled faintly of some non-descript fruit flavouring. For a moment Stan found himself thinking some distinctly non sexy thoughts of how slimy the bed was going to be from the mess he’d made. But then Kyle bit into his lower lip, pulling him into another kiss and running his hands down Stan’s bare chest. Rough hands dragged across his stomach, making him shudder. When Kyle’s hand slid beneath the waistband of his pants and gripped him, Stan bucked, remembering full force what he was doing.

Images of entering Kyle flooded his mind; what that hot, tight, heat would feel like when he finally pushed inside him, and he was pressing a finger inside before he could stop himself. Kyle shifted beneath him, accommodating the change easily, his hips undulating in time with Stan’s careful pushes. Even when Stan added a second finger, it felt good, if a little strange. Stan could see it from Kyle’s face but when he added a third the discomfort took over for a second. Kyle rippled and clenched beneath his touch, his breath growing frantic as the pressured grip increased on Stan’s cock.

He relaxed, smiling apologetically when Stan’s gasp grew pained and rubbed a finger over his tip, pumping him in a way that had him rocking into Kyle’s hand. Hastily, Stan adjusted his fingers, thrusting in time to every one of Kyle’s pumps. They stayed there, rocking into each other, filling the room with quiet, breathy moans. The movement changed the angle of Stan’s fingers, pressing them against something new that made Kyle spasm under his touch. Kyle’s hips bucked forward, colliding his cock with Stan’s and then they were both swearing.

They moved as one. Lube slicked and running together, Stan tried to keep his fingers where they were, massaging Kyle’s prostrate. Under him, Kyle writhed and pushed against Stan’s every movement with tiny pants. And _fuck_ , the feeling of being inside Kyle alone was enough to drive Stan to the edge but then he was also against him, their bare chests pressed together, their cocks leaking as they thrusted together. He couldn’t stop. Biting into the crook of Kyle’s neck, he groaned desperately, feeling that familiar heat pool in his groin.

“Stan.” Kyle choked out, slapping him lightly on the back. “Stan, stop.”

He felt a little delirious when he pulled away, gazing at Kyle with hooded eyes and uneven breath. Kyle looked just as worn. His lips were flooded red from where he’d been biting into them to stay quiet. His cheeks were flushed and more than a few bite marks littered his neck from Stan’s worrying teeth.

“Everything ok?” Stan asked, his voice surprisingly even. Kyle’s eyes were squeezed shut as he swallowed, nodding firmly at him. When he spoke his voice shook and his hips were still keening forward, making Stan’s breath hitch at the low key friction.

“Yeah... just... you know, any more of that and we’d be done.” He said sheepishly and Stan smiled, flooding with pride.

“I’m that good huh?” He grinned, leaning down to feather kisses along Kyle’s jaw. He didn’t see it, but he just knew instinctively that the eye roll was there.

“No, it was terrible. I was just scared I’d get friction burn from how you’re humping me.” Stan snorted, pinching Kyle in the sides but it only made him laugh. Wrapping his arms around him, he pulled Stan into another kiss that lingered sweetly, and once again Stan felt affection well up inside him.

“Thank you for tonight.” He murmured against Kyle’s lips. “I really needed it.” Kyle smiled, nodding in silent understanding.

“What are friends for?” He replied and Stan sighed, brushing a curl from his face with his free hand.

“I think we might be more than friends.” He said with the same besotted tone from before and Kyle’s smile grew, brightening his entire face.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, Stan?” He said, raising his eyebrow. Stan chuckled.

“Would I really ask you that with my fingers up your ass?” He tried to sound disapproving but Kyle only snorted.

“I think that’s exactly when you’d ask, you weirdo.”

“Well, you know how I like to seize the moment.” Wiggling his eyebrows, Stan crooked his fingers making Kyle shudder at the not at all subtle reminder.

“Assho...” he began, but Stan shut him up, driving him into another crushing kiss. With his hands free, Kyle rose against Stan’s body, pressing them closer together and sliding his tongue sinuously against Stan’s. Stan let out a surprised gasp, when he felt Kyle take control and roll them over. Kyle pushed Stan against the pillow, straddling his hips. When he pulled away, he kept their lips barely a breath apart. Looking Stan deeply in the eyes, he whispered quietly against him.

“I want you to fuck me, Stan.” Even as he said it, Kyle pushed his hips so Stan’s cock was nestled in the cleft of his ass. Planting his hands on Stan’s chest and looking him deeply in the eyes, Kyle began to rock against him with a silent plea in his eyes. His nails contracted on Stan’s skin leaving red trails in their wake, but Stan was too far gone to care. All he could focus on was Kyle above him, the smell of sex slick on his skin. “Say yes, Stan.” He breathed, eyebrows knitting together. “Please say yes.”

He couldn’t have said no if he wanted to.

“Yes.” Reaching for the back of Kyle’s neck he pulled him into a kiss, throwing him onto his back again. They didn’t stall this time. Neither of them were capable of it. Stan’s left hand went to Kyle’s knee which he parted without hesitation. His other hand, he used to steady himself as he finally entered Kyle.

Nothing from his imagination could have prepared him for this feeling. It hit him with the intensity of a punch, all of his attention pooling down to the point where he and Kyle connected. Only his head was in but he was afraid that any movement and that would be it for him. Stan shook from the effort of keeping himself from thrusting forward and pounding into Kyle until he came. Instead, he distracted himself by looking at Kyle. His face had changed entirely from before. His expression was clenched up in pain and his hands dug into the blankets, scrunching the sheets tightly under his grip.

Stan was such an idiot. He had left himself forget. For fucks sake, this was Kyle’s first time.

“Kyle, hey, listen to me.” He said soothingly and reached to cup his cheek gently with his free hand. “Just deep breaths ok? How are you doing?” After a moment, Kyle seemed to relax enough to talk.

“I’m ok... just give me a second.” He churned out then smiled a little. “Things don’t usually go up there, you know?” And Stan had to laugh because only Kyle would go there.

“Do you want me to pull out?” He asked, still caressing his cheeks and finally Kyle’s expression eased. He opened his eyes to meet Stan’s.

“No, but... go slowly.” He said and Stan nodded. Moving his hand away from Kyle’s face, he moved it down, taking Kyle’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

“It’ll be good, I promise.” He breathed and then he was inching forward, burying himself into Kyle. The grip on his hand tightened but everywhere else Kyle let go, relaxing into the feeling. Kyle took a deep breath before reaching down to palm his own flagging erection.

“Move, Stan.” And so he did, thrusting slowly and carefully for both their sakes and after a while, Kyle’s discomfort eased. Stan watched Kyle work himself to hardness again under his own touch and it drove him forward. He thrusted purposefully, pressing light kisses on any skin he could reach until he found it, the spot that made Kyle shudder and jolt in pleasure.

Once he had found it, Stan couldn’t slow down. The feeling of Kyle twisting in pleasure beneath him was doing wonderful things to his senses and he was edging dangerously close to the end. With everything he had, Stan drove into Kyle’s prostrate, circling his hips to grind against it until Kyle was just as close.

“Does it feel good, Kyle?” He asked, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “I want you to feel good.” Kyle swallowed a lump in his throat as he began to meet every one of Stan’s thrusts with one of his own.

“God, Stan... I can’t.” He choked, increasing the rhythm of his hand and pulling Stan into a final kiss. Neither of them could stop how filthy and hungry and messy the kiss became as they were both sent teetering over the edge, both coming in stuttered groans onto each other’s chests. Stan rode it out as long as possible, rolling his hips until he was completely spent before dropping into Kyle’s waiting arms.

They lay there hugging for a long time, letting the room cool around them and listening to the silence of the house around them. Neither of them saying a word until Stan snorted, burying his face into Kyle’s chest.

“What’s so funny?” Kyle asked, but he didn’t actually sound all that interested. Stan shook his head.

“No, it’s just... your parents definitely heard us.” He said, laughing harder at Kyle’s devastated groan. “Don’t worry, man. Just mention the UPS man or something. They’ll back off in no time.” He grinned to which Kyle curled his nose in disgust.

“Gee, thanks Stan. My parents’ freaky roleplay is exactly what I want to be thinking about after sex. You nailed it.”

“Actually I’m pretty sure I nailed you.”

“Fuck off.” Kyle snapped but it quickly turned into a smile at the way Stan laughed. Combing his hand through Stan’s hair, Kyle smiled down at him endearingly. “I will by the way.” He murmured and Stan looked to him questioningly.

“Huh?”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.” Initially all Stan could register was surprise. In all honesty he wasn’t actually sure if he’d been serious when he asked. But then Kyle smiled and a happiness bloomed in his chest and Stan realised he would go on midnight runs for this boy everyday forever.

“I’m sure I can make that work.” He said, barely containing his excitement then grimaced at the sudden discomfort that crossed Kyle’s face when his hand traced across the cold tracks of cum on his stomach. “Although we should probably clean up before anything.”

“Damn right. This is freaking gross, Stan. We should’ve used a condom.” Kyle said, wailing in even more disgust as he tried to get out of bed only to feel the cold remains track down his leg. Stan just rolled his eyes.

“What was I going to do? Get you pregnant?” He asked, stretching out on the bed, he rolled over to where Kyle was glaring at him from the doorway. “Don’t worry about it Kyle. Nothing is going to happen.”

\---

_One Year Later_

All the usual bullshit aside, Kyle Broflovski had actually been having a pretty good day.

Cartman had been away the past weekend doing god knows what, and it meant that Kyle had the dorm to himself for once. The weather had been great too so after lunch on the lawn with some other politics students, Kyle had managed to return to their room and finish all the reading for the coming week. No night before cramming for him. It was amazingly liberating.

That day Kyle had arrived to all his classes punctual and prepared. He’d returned to his room to be greeted by a broad smile and two boxes of pizza.

“You’re back then.” He grinned as Cartman threw him the tired South Park Cows sweater he always wore when he got home. Dropping his bag to catch it, Kyle changed instantly, relishing the feeling of not being dressed like a snobby asshole. Appearances had to be kept unfortunately, they already got shit for being hicks. Well, they had until one of their classmates had mysteriously been expelled for allegedly filming gay porn on campus. Some guy called Mitch Connor had tipped off the chancellor. “How was it this time?”

“Fucking weak dude. They made me join this vegan cult. I haven’t had meat in three days.” Cartman grumbled at his laptop where Kyle just knew he was looking for a film to watch. “So yeah, I got us pizza. I need something other than goddamn rabbit food. Yours is kosher. It sucks but at least it's not fucking vegan.”

Kyle snorted, dropping down onto the bed beside Cartman. Why he always chose Kyle’s bed (and his computer!) he didn’t know. At least at this angle he could dig his elbow especially deep into Cartman’s side.

“We are not watching one of your chick flicks Cartman, I will haul your ass out of here.” He growled and Cartman merely scoffed.

“No way man, I’m the one who had to endure three days with the rabid bunny fuckers. I’m picking the movie.”

And so it went, as it always did with film nights. Cartman and Kyle would argue until one of them gave up and left to get the drinks. This was usually Kyle and also why they usually ended up watching some Richard Gere bullshit. Cartman was a sucker for them, he hadn’t the faintest clue why but naturally, Kyle fully embraced mocking him for it. This time when he came back to the room though Cartman was already chatting with someone on skype. Recognising the voice instantly, Kyle jumped back onto the bed, deliberately misplacing Cartman.

“Chlamydia?” Kyle was speechless. To his credit, Stan, at least, had the nerve to look remorseful when he nodded.

“Yeah man, so, uh, you might want to get tested.”

As the words registered, Kyle slowly turned to Cartman who met his eye with a dirty glare.

“I swear to god Kyle, if you’ve given me chlamydia I’ll slice your fucking nuts off.”

Well that cat was out of the bag. Glancing down at Stan, he didn’t even see a hint of surprise on his face, a sentiment echoed by Kenny’s shouting down the line.

“Called it!” To which Stan snorted at the obvious. Kyle felt irritation flare in him.

“This isn’t funny Stan. You’re telling me I might’ve got a fucking STD from the first goddamn person I slept with.”

“Yeah asshole. Who other than Kenny gets an STD within a month of going to college?” Cartman chimed in, pushing his way back onto the screen. Thousands of miles away in Colorado, Kenny pushed onto Stan’s screen as well.

“Hey fuck you, Fatass!” He snapped, flipping Cartman off.

“Suck my dick poor boy.”

“Yeah no thanks. That’s what got you into this mess.” But Cartman just rolled his eyes.

“Like you aren’t already, manwhore.” Kenny smirked.

“Nope. I’m fresh back from the grave. I’m clean as a whistle baby.” Deciding their friends had hijacked the conversation enough, Stan nudged Kenny and gave him that -shut up now- look that Kyle recognised so well.

“Can you guys stop talking now? I’m starting to realise why people say dating is too much of a hassle.” He whined, making Cartman scoff.

“Who’s talking about dating, you just screwed everyone hippie.”

“Yeah and you and Kyle just skipped right to being married.” Stan shot back stubbornly.

“Ay!”

“Ok really stop talking guys.” Kyle said firmly, glaring at everyone with the same look Stan had used moments ago. He’d learnt if from somewhere after all. “Stan, I will get checked tomorrow but if it’s positive, like Cartman said, I promise I’ll slice your fucking nuts off.” Stan merely raised his eyebrows in unspoken surprise.

“I believe you.” Kyle hung up without so much as another word, leaving Stan and Kenny to stare at the blank screen once again. Turning to each other, they stared wide-eyed before Kenny broke into a grin.

“I thought that went well.” He said, barely concealing his laughter. “By the way, they’re screwing, you owe me ten bucks.” He added, as he headed to the fridge to grab a drink, leaving Stan on the sofa. He tossed a can to Stan who caught it effortlessly.

“It doesn’t work if we both betted on the same thing Kenny. Now we both just owe each other ten bucks.” He said, tapping the side of his drink. Kenny seemed to genuinely consider this before breaking into another smile.

“Ok tell you what. We can go out. I’ll take you somewhere for ten bucks. You take me somewhere.” He said and now it was Stan’s turn to think about it.

“That’s not a lot man. For ten bucks you’ve pretty much got the cinema or the student bar.”

“Well there you go.” Kenny grinned, walking over, resting his arms on the back of the sofa so Stan had to twist to look at him. “It’s a date.” He said with a wink, making Stan flush an amazing array of colours.

“Yeah, a date.” Stan repeated glumly. As always though, Kenny ignored it. Taking another sip of his drink, he jumped the back of the sofa and dropped into the seat beside Stan. Resting his feet in Stan’s lap, he looked from his friend to the computer with a smile.

“So that’s Kyle done.” He said, scratching his head. “When are you going to call Wendy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess the whole story is a cautionary tale but seriously, use condoms.


	3. Wendy

_Six months earlier_

In all honesty, Stan hated this fucking house party with a fervent passion. Not all parties, although he certainly wasn’t a huge fan of those either. But at this moment, Stan would’ve given anything to be anywhere else.

Too bad that getting drunk at house parties was up there in the teenage experience with trying cigarettes and stupidly dating and getting dumped by your best friend.

“He’s saying it was mutual.” Stan said, ignoring Kenny’s snort at the clear contradiction in his words.

“And what are you saying, Stan?”

They were slumped on the sofa that had been shoved into the corner to make room for a makeshift dancefloor. Although, at this point everybody was still too sober to dance so they were just clumped together in awkward clusters, slowly sipping their drinks.

“I’m saying I don’t think I was good enough.” He mumbled, only then realising how drunk he must have been to let slip such candour. He glanced at Kenny, catching the tail end of his genuine surprise.

“That’s bullshit, Stan. Don’t say that.” He muttered bitterly, and Kenny must have been drunk too for him to protest so vehemently. So, Stan smiled sheepishly at him in appreciation before refocusing on what had been distracting him across the room.

Kyle looked great tonight. Of course, Stan knew he was bias. He hadn’t made any particular effort. In fact, he looked the way he always did with his plain clothes and his assorted hats, but Stan couldn’t take his eyes off him. Or how he was currently grinning and arm wrestling Eric Cartman.

Despite how long they’d talked about it, Stan was still not entirely sure what had happened. When Kyle had blindsided him with the talk, Stan had been too surprised to question it. Now three weeks later, he felt like he had too many questions that had gone unasked. He had missed all the important stuff. All he knew was that ultimately it had boiled down to an “it’s not you, it’s me” spiel, and how fucking cliché was that?

“Do you want me to tell you how he’s actually a terrible person?” Kenny asked with a meek smile, probably deciding to put Stan out of his moping misery.

“Don’t lie.” Stan mumbled, sipping sullenly at his beer. It tasted like shit.

Wendy had said the same thing; not in the same words, but the sentiment had definitely been there. Stan was not engaged enough, not passionate enough, not happy enough with just being alive. Neither of them had told him that. They didn’t have to. Stan had already known because Wendy was always looking to be better and Kyle... _god_... Kyle had always been larger than life.

It always just came back to the same thing.

_-“I can’t fix you.”-_

“Do you think they’re fucking?”

Kenny looked at him, understanding who he meant instantly. Stan saw the conflict pass over his face before he decided to answer.

“Almost definitely.”

Awesome.

“Don’t sugar coat it, Ken.” He said bitterly, and Kenny grinned apologetically in reply.

“Well, you told me not to lie.” He said, but then he seemed to take pity on him. “Look, Stan, everyone spins this bullshit that you’re supposed to find your soulmate in high school. Kyle was your best friend. I bet that made it even easier to believe he was your fairy tale ending.” Reaching forward to grab his beer, Kenny looked at him, and it was one of those rare moments where he was completely and utterly serious. “But sometimes friendship is just friendship.”

Stan didn’t reply, thinking quietly on Kenny’s words. Kyle had said he wanted to stay friends. It made sense. They had been great friends. Hell, Stan wanted it too, but how the hell were they just going to pretend that the past six months hadn’t happened? 

“I can tell everyone he has a small wiener if you like.”

“Kenny, he’s supposed to be your friend. Aren’t you even going to try not picking sides?” Stan scoffed. It was hard to take Kenny seriously when he was grinning like that, insistently pulling Stan out of his mood. It was hard to stay upset too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell everyone you have a small wiener too. Everybody wins.” For the first time that night, Stan laughed.

“You’re unbelievable.” Kenny just smiled like his heart was soaring.

“Don’t we all know it?”

Stan and Kenny stayed there for a little while longer, watching as the party relaxed and the dancing began. They didn’t talk about anything important. They never really did, but Stan didn’t mind. It was easy being with Kenny, even if it meant talking nonsense and drinking way more vodka than originally intended.

Thirty minutes later, he was feeling a lot better and even considering sticking the party out. That was until a cacophony of wolf-whistling dragged his attention across the room. It looked like they were playing spin the bottle. Bebe and Nichole were engaged in one of the showiest make out sessions he had seen in his life. It really was quite impressive how they had reduced the guys in their group to a bunch of howling jackasses, but that wasn’t what Stan was looking at.

Amid all the movement, Stan could see Kyle. He saw his knitted eyebrows, his hooded eyes, and worst of all he saw Cartman’s lips against his ear, whispering slowly. Silently, Stan willed Kyle to push him away, to prove his worries wrong. Eventually he did, but the smile never disappeared. Stan thought he was going to throw up.

“I think I’m going to take off.” He said, getting to his feet. Kenny didn’t try to stop him. He just patted him sympathetically on the back. Stan hated it.

He made his way up the stairs with a frown, ignoring the way Kyle called out to him as he passed.  He’d left his jacket in one of the bedrooms, and all he could think about was getting it as fast as possible so he could get the hell out of there. So, of course, the door was locked when he tried it.

Stan wrenched at the door handle, not even noticing the growl that slipped from his throat.

It was at that point, in front of that door, that Stan finally let himself lose his temper. He was pissed off, at Kyle, at Kenny, at fucking Cartman. The whole thing had him furious. How could he have been so stupid as to let this happen? Pounding on the door furiously, Stan roared, not caring about the looks it garnered him.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

The door shook under his ministrations, and Stan’s fist was beginning to ache when he heard an exasperated shout from the other side of the door. The lock clicked and the door was wrenched open to reveal a very angry Wendy Testaburger.

“What?!” She snapped before she registered who it was. Looking up into his eyes, her scowl melted away. “Stan? What the hell, are you trying to bring the house down?”

“No, just trying to get my jacket.” Stan grumbled, pushing past her and walking to where the jackets were piled on a chair in the corner. “Why did you lock the door?”

“I was trying to get some quiet actually.” She said, closing the door behind him then crossing her arms in disapproval at his behaviour. “Alcohol tends to make people behave like assholes.” Stan snorted.

“Ain’t that the truth?” He muttered, recklessly throwing jackets across the floor. Wendy watched him, concern outliving her anger.

“I’m talking about you, Stan.” She said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m great. What’s up with you?”

“Really? Because I thought it might have something to do with the disgusting display that was Cartman making a pass at your boyfriend.” Stan’s hands stalled their search, turning to look at Wendy bitterly.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Is that right?”

He frowned.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“I’m not.”

She really wasn’t. Wendy did not so much as twitch at the news, and Stan was hit with the sickening realisation that everybody had been expecting this. Nobody had looked twice at Kyle tonight because everyone had seen this coming.

“Going to gloat?”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.”

Giving up on his coat, Stan rose to his feet, walking over to where Wendy was still stood by the door. Soon he had her completely backed against it, arms either side of her head and his breath warm against her cheek.

He smiled cruelly.

“It must be nice though, being proved right. Being able to tell everyone how fucking smart you were. Clever little Wendy. You worked it out. I’m such a terrible boyfriend even my best friend couldn’t stand me.” The words were harsh. He knew that, but something had washed over him in that second, and he was overcome with the urge to blame Wendy.

She had started all this. Now, all he knew was that his heart felt like barbed wire in his chest.

“This isn’t about you, Stan.” For the second time that night, Stan found himself saying the same words, whispering them at her from where he had her cornered.

“Don’t lie.” To her credit, Wendy remained unmoving beneath his gaze. She was not afraid of him. She had no need to be. So, when she spoke, her words cut like glass.

“You’re right. This is all about you. Nobody’s good enough for you.” Stan baulked at her words. How could she get it so wrong?

“That’s not true.” Wendy didn’t yield.

“Yes, it is. Everybody you date is too good for you. That’s what you think, right? You think you’ve got all these issues that are just too complex for normal people, and we’re all out here to hurt you because compared to everything else in our lives you don’t matter. Well, that’s bullshit, Stan. You can’t be someone’s everything. That’s not how love works.” He was shocked at first, taken aback by the accuracy of her words, but soon frustration took over.

“Damn, it must have been someone else who said they couldn’t fix me.” He snarled, but Wendy pushed right back.

“I can’t.” She snapped, pressing her hands against his shoulders. Stan didn’t move. “There’s no way you would ever let me. You like being broken too much. It’s easier for people to pamper you that way. How many times did you turn up at Kyle’s doorstep with a problem for him to solve only to take off the next day?” It felt like the breath was knocked from his lungs. Stan took a step back, staring at Wendy with shock he never had felt before. How the fuck had this happened? They’d never fought like this before, not even when they broke up.

Wendy’s words had pushed him back. Feeling bodily exhausted, he dropped into the chair in the corner, letting his eyes fall to the scattered jackets at his feet. He should have known better than to take on Wendy.

“Can we not do this right now? I don’t think I can take you being like this tonight.” Or ever for that matter.

Wendy frowned at the accusation.

“You started it.”

“Yeah, I know. Please finish it.”

Silence fell after that. Wendy remained by the door and Stan in the chair. He felt the exhaustion in his bones. This was the second break-up tonight. Wendy and him had ended it more than two years ago so why did it feel like they were only just doing it now? Why did everything suddenly feel so terminal?

“You know, I thought I was going to marry you someday.” He realised the words were true as he said them. Two years ago, Wendy had seemed just as permanent as Kyle. Maybe even more.

When he looked at her, she seemed just as torn as he felt. In that moment, even as the screaming and obnoxious music bled into the room, everything seemed quiet. Wendy’s fists were clenched at her side and her lips were pursed in frustration. Everything about her was tense. Her shoulders shook with the effort not to yell at him.

But then their eyes met and a resigned sigh shook her. Wendy let go. Stan could almost see the weight lift from her as she walked over to him. The hair on his neck raised as she rubbed her hand slowly along his shoulder. Her fingertips felt warm against his skin, lingering along his collarbone. Stan paced his breathing in time with her hands, moving in tandem with her, responding to the slightest touch. Just like he always had.

He saw it coming when she leaned in to kiss him, but still he took a moment to respond. Wendy kissed like she spoke: bravely, boldly and with so, _so much_ care. It used to drive him crazy, the way she called the shots, working Stan exactly how she wanted to until he would have done anything, given anything to please her.

“Me too, Stan.” Her voice wavered when she spoke, barely a whisper against his lips but either way it broke his heart. This was well and truly over… him and Kyle were well and truly over.

It was that realisation that made him pull Wendy into his lap, kissing her with everything he had.  His arms were full of her. After all this time, she still fit perfectly when he wrapped his arms around her waist. Wendy let out a surprised gasp when he tightened his grip, lifting her closer so their chests aligned. She kept kissing him fervently through the crushing pressure.

With reckless abandon, he let his hands travel up her back, exploring and remembering every inch of her. She still felt amazing. She still tracked her hands down his chest slowly and intently, moving against him in a way that roused more than just memories.

He had been right. Wendy had started this. It had always been her, right from the start. She was his first love. The original one everyone had said wouldn’t last. Two years ago, Stan and Wendy were intent on proving them wrong.

Stan knew now that they hadn’t.

They reached for each other at the same time. Wendy’s breath quivering as he slid his hand up her skirt. The pressure eased as she slowly unzipped his jeans. He could feel her, warm and wet over her lace underwear. Stan’s fingers were just ghosting between her legs when the door opened.

“Holy shit.”

They jumped apart instantly. Wendy stumbled to her feet, hastily adjusting her skirt. Stan stayed seated, but curled in on himself in a pathetic attempt to shield his boner from the astounded eyes of Kenny McCormick.

“Fucking hell Kenny!” Stan snapped, rezipping his jeans with albeit a lot of difficulty, but Kenny did not move. For a moment, he stood as if petrified, staring at a point between Wendy and Stan. He quickly recovered though, righting himself and rearranging his shock into a smirk.

“I’m sorry man, for a second I thought I’d added time travel to my list of super powers.” Stan and Wendy both rolled their eyes.

“Very funny, you jackass.” Wendy mumbled, ignoring the wink she got in reply.

“Seriously guys, don’t mind me. I’m just here for my jacket then I’ll be out of your hair.” Kenny said, scanning the floor for his coat and laughing a little hopelessly when he found it under Stan’s feet. Prying it away before Stan had the chance to move, Kenny gathered it in his arms and retrieved a very battered packet of cigarettes from the pocket. “Got to feed my addiction you know?”

He was acting weird… well, weirder.

Stan frowned, slowly getting to his feet.

 “Kenny…”

“Have fun guys.” He was gone before Stan could finish, slamming the door behind him. Hesitantly, Stan turned to regard Wendy.

Something had changed when Kenny walked in. They shouldn’t be doing this. Deep down Stan had known that, but it was different seeing it on his friend’s face. What he’d had with Wendy had been special. He shouldn’t defile that now because he was drunk and looking to compete with Kyle.

Looking to Wendy, he saw the same resignation in her eyes.

She felt it too.

This was well and truly over.

“I think we should break up.” It made no sense, but Wendy said it anyway, and Stan actually laughed. Pulling her into a hug, he breathed her in one last time.

“For good this time.” Stan mumbled into her hair. He felt Wendy giggle against his ear, and smiled as she pulled him tighter.

There they stayed for just a little longer.

\---

Kenny was in the kitchen with Kyle and Cartman when Stan finally came downstairs. Seeing them together made him hesitate at first. It would be the first time he and Kyle would talk all night. With Kyle there, he couldn’t even approach the subject of Wendy. But as he got closer it became clear, judging by the surprise on Kyle’s face and the sadistic glee on Cartman’s when they saw him that Kenny had already filled them in.

All of them turned to Stan, judgement ready to go.

“Really, Stan? Wendy again?” That was certainly rich coming from Kyle, but Stan just shrugged. He wasn’t going to go there. Instead, he turned to Kenny, smiling sheepishly.

“Hey, dude, sorry you had to see that.” Kenny said nothing. Cartman spoke for him.

“Oh please, he was enjoying the free show. Weren’t you Kenny?”

After hesitating briefly, Kenny replied.

“Always, Fatass.”

“So, how was it?” Stan glared at him. Seriously, what the hell was Kyle thinking?

“Shut up, Cartman.” But, of course, Cartman just kept pushing.

“No I’m serious, I always figured she’d be frigid as fuck. Like fucking an icicle.”

“We didn’t have sex.” Stan snapped just to keep Cartman from talking. That just made all of them scoff.

“Sure you didn’t, Hippie.”

“Yeah, Stan, like you’ve ever been able to say no to Wendy.” He couldn’t believe this. Stan stared at Kyle, absolutely baffled. He was really just going to stand there and pretend like nothing had ever happened between them.

“Of course I didn’t. I actually loved her. It’s what you do for someone you care about.” Kyle raised an eyebrow to this, recognising his bellicose tone instantly.

“Don’t we all know it.” Kenny said. Great, so now he was joining in. Stan didn’t care. Despite everything, he felt unburdened. Not even Kyle could get under his skin at this moment.

“Whatever, you guys can’t make me feel bad. Wendy and I are in a great place right now.” The collective derision came as expected, Kenny assuming lead while Cartman and Kyle just nudged each other knowingly.

“We get it, Stan.”

“No, but dude, listen. Sure, we made out but we didn’t have sex because…”

“Stan…”

“Wendy and me, we’re…”

“SHUT UP!” Stan stopped talking, his words falling from his tongue. The room went dead around them. Whatever stupid shit Kyle and Cartman had been doing ceased instantly. It felt like all movement stilled as everything converged on Kenny. He had yelled. Loudly. None of them could remember the last time that had happened. Now, his fist was clenched so tightly around his cup that beer was spilling over the plastic and onto his pale knuckles.

It only took a second for Kenny to realise what he had done. Everything flickered across his face in that moment before he eventually settled on regret. Ignoring the people around him, he looked to Stan.

“Sorry, man. I think we’ve all heard enough about Wendy to last a lifetime.”

For an age, no one replied. Then Kyle finally broke the silence with a faulty laugh.

“Kenny’s right. Besides, isn’t it a little insensitive to discuss your healing near sex experience with your ex-girlfriend right in front of me?”

This time Stan couldn’t stop himself.

“Shut the fuck up, Kyle.” To his surprise, Kyle actually laughed.

From there the conversation moved on. Stan and Kyle falling into a rhythm just like old times, making Stan’s heart flutter with just an inkling of hope. Following his glitch, Kenny quickly returned to normal, but even as he laughed at something ridiculous Kyle had said, something remained off about him. He stubbornly avoided Stan’s curious glances until finally, he pulled away altogether. Sidling over to Cartman, Kenny placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned up to be heard over the noise.

“Take me home.” The words were barely whispered, but still Stan heard them. All he could do was watch in astonishment as Cartman looked Kenny over slowly, clearly seeing something the others couldn’t.

“Sure thing, poor boy.”

Without a word, Stan watched them say their goodbyes and leave. Even in their wake, he remained speechless and awash with confusion as to what the hell had just happened. He’d seen this before, barely an hour ago. Only this time, he didn’t understand. Turning to Kyle, he frowned. He didn’t need words to ask this question. Understanding immediately, Kyle just shrugged, bringing his drink to his mouth. Surveying the rest of the room, Kyle replied with words full of timeless wisdom.

“Just keep drinking, Stan.”

\----

_Six Months Later_

In the end, Kyle never did phone him back. Stan wasn’t entirely surprised. He had been fuming when they’d last spoken. At times like these, it was always best to give him some space to cool off. Well, more space than the near 1,800 miles already between them.

Kenny, being the total dick that he was in a crisis, had kindly reminded him that no news was good news. If Kyle had not yet showed up on their doorstop to make good on his ball-slicing threat, then they could safely assume he was clean. The fact that Cartman had not shown up either was also pretty fail safe proof, because they knew damn well that if Cartman had caught something he’d sure as hell be out for revenge.

In other news, a phone call that he had successfully made had been to Wendy Testaburger’s mother. Not intentionally, and in all truth, not all that successfully either. Stan had left a voicemail to Wendy, telling her they needed to talk. Next thing he knew, his own mother had been calling demanding to know how he could tell the Testaburgers about his terminal illness before her. Apparently South Park had talked, and South Park had got it wrong. Thank god.

“Well, not totally wrong.”

Stan scoffed.

“I am not going to die of chlamydia, Kenny.” His friend just laughed.

“Watch it, Stan. Famous last words, my friend.”

They were in the coffee shop by the library again, just as they always were after class. It was a habit born from mismatched schedules and an unwillingness to walk home alone. Stan usually got there first, nabbing the table in the corner by the window. There he would set up shop, and pretend to read science journals until Kenny would inevitably show up with the one pen and notebook he used for all his classes.

This time, when Kenny arrived, he had found Stan so laser focused on his laptop that it could not possibly have been homework.

“Whatcha doin’ bud?” He’d asked, slipping into the seat across from him. Stan had not looked up.

“Email.” Ignoring his whine of protest, Kenny had taken hold of the laptop, turning it his way. Speed-reading the screen, his eyebrows gradually raised in surprise at what he found.

“Stan, you are such a poet.”

And so, Stan had hastily caught him up on the awkward phone call with Mrs. Testaburger and the even more awkward conversation with his mom. By the end, Kenny was nearly suffocating under his attempts not to laugh.

“Anyway, so Wendy’s in Bolivia or whatever volunteering for some women’s rights charity, and the only way I can reach her is email.”

“Hence the: My dearest Wendy, I hope you are well, and have access to prescription antibiotics.” Ok, he hadn’t written any of that.

“Kenny, you are having way too much fun with this.” His friend shrugged utterly unapologetically.

“What can I say? It’s nice that someone else is dying for once.” He smirked, ignoring Stan as he once again grumbled that he had no intention of dying from this.

With a lot of coercion, Stan finally managed to send the email. In the end, he had decided that there really was no nice way of saying it, even with the direction of Kenneth “On the Morrow” McCormick.

They made it home and through half a cup of instant ramen each before Stan’s phone rang. Picking it up, Stan was surprised to see a number he didn’t recognise. Curiosity compelled him to answer.

“Hello Stan.”

Oh, shit.

“Heeey Wendy…” Turning to Kenny, he gestured wildly with the other hand as panic flowed through him. Wendy didn’t sound angry. She sounded calm, which meant Stan was about to be verbally eviscerated right there on his own damn couch.

“You want to tell me about this email I just received from you?” Stan suddenly felt like a little kid again. Creepy how only Wendy and his mother could do that to him… ok sick, he wasn’t going to go there.

“Yeah, so, uh, I was at the doctor, and, well, she told me to contact all my sexual partners and that’s… you, kinda.” Nice Stan. Very articulate.

“So you’re phoning me. In Bolivia.” What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“Yeah, because you know we used to date, and then there was that thing at Bebe’s party…”

“We didn’t have sex at Bebe’s party!” Ok, now she was shouting. Stan wrenched the phone away from his ear and once again turned to Kenny in a wordless plea for help. Kenny did not move. He was staring at Stan, noodles halfway to his mouth and realisation clear across his face. It suddenly occurred to Stan that for all these months, Kenny had never fully believed him.

“Look, I know it sucks Wendy, but you probably haven’t even got it. I just thought you should get tested to be safe.”

“And where do you think I’m going to get tested, Stan? I don’t exactly have access to an STD clinic.”

Right. Bolivia.

“So… I guess I’ll see you at home for Christmas?” As expected, Wendy hung up.

They sat in the aftershock of the call for a while, both staring pensively at Stan’s hands. Kenny was not willing to break the silence, knowing too well what subject they would turn to. So, Stan did it instead.

“I told you so.” Kenny’s face twisted into a grimace, and his gaze dropped to where his hands were stirring a quickly-cooling cup of ramen.

“Ok, so I didn’t believe you.” He said with a violent huff, playing hard at sounding nonchalant. “But you must admit, walking in on you with your hand up her skirt was pretty damn convincing.”

With a sigh, Stan realised they were going to talk about this. He didn’t care about the party. In that moment, he didn’t even care about Wendy or what happened between them. That wasn’t the kiss he was thinking about.

“Why would I lie to you?” It was unusual seeing Kenny uncomfortable. He was so open about so many things, but when it came to this it was avoidance as per protocol. He didn’t want to revisit this topic. Which was why Stan was a little surprised when Kenny ceased his fiddling and looked at him bleakly.

“To spare my delicate, seventeen-year-old, sensibilities?” They smiled wryly at one another. What they both knew went unsaid: that eighteen-year-old Stan had never been careful enough to protect any of seventeen-year-old Kenny’s feelings.

A moment passed between them where they sat cross legged on the couch, bare feet and cold ramen. Then as always, the conversation died.

“So I’m thinking maybe I was wrong. It might be best to tell them in person after all. Everyone else on your list is in town, right?” Kenny said, relaxing again. Stan scoffed.

“What? So that I definitely die of chlamydia?”

“Oh please, as if Saint Gary would ever try to kill you.” That was certainly true, but still, Stan did not like the idea at all.

“Yeah, but I can think of another one who might.”

At the questioning look Kenny gave him, Stan once again fished the list out of his pocket. Handing it to his friend, he watched Kenny grab it and scan the names below. He knew Kenny got it when his eyes dropped to the bottom of the list and his mouth dropped even wider.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Returning the list, Kenny shook his head with a smile, probably once more revelling in Stan’s suffering.

“Maybe leave that one for last.”

Stan nodded along. Ideally he would have liked to leave it all together. Kenny was right. This was going to be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have Chapter 2. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear feedback! The next one will be up when inspiration strikes.


	4. Gary

_Present day_

The cinema lobby was pretty deserted by the time they left the theatre. It was the last showing of the night so there was nothing in the room but the silent death wish of the employees still on shift and the crunch of abandoned popcorn under their feet. Kenny and Stan had watched the credits in silence, not speaking until they left the room.

“Well, that was as bad as I expected.” Kenny said as soon as they stepped into the light, slipping on his jacket. “I can’t believe you talked me into that.”

Stretching and putting his own jacket on, Stan looked to his friend incredulously. The film had been stupid, mindless action with frankly a disturbing number of explosions and holes in American national security, but it hadn’t been completely terrible. And definitely nothing like the shit Kenny usually dragged them to.

“Shut up, you like Rob Reiner.” He threw back, making Kenny turn to face him.

“Rob Reiner is a comedic genius worth every penny.” He sounded genuinely outraged. “Unlike this. It’s a waste of my hard-earned cash.”

Now Stan really had to scoff.

“What hard-earned cash, scholarship boy? That’s CU’s money and you know it.”

Kenny just smirked, nudging Stan enough to make him misstep. His reply came like clockwork. Just as Stan’s comments always did.

“Hard none the less.”

Stan rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone to turn it off silent. Just as he did, the phone chimed with a new message that made Stan stop halfway through the cinema doorway. Kenny, who was holding the door for him paused as well.

“What’s up?”

Stan frowned.

“Gary. He says he can meet tomorrow.”

Kenny just raised an eyebrow, leaning his weight against the door. He had a way of making it all look so effortless but Stan took note of his curiosity anyway.

“A date?”

 “Venerial Report.”

With a snort of laughter, they started walking again, making it a few steps away from the building before Stan stopped again. After typing a quick reply, Stan tucked his phone in his pocket and smiled at Kenny.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” He asked. For a moment, Kenny just looked him up and down, considering Stan’s words. Slowly, a grin spread across his lips.

“Well, I’m just saying, I followed through on my end of the bargain.” He threw his arm around Stan’s shoulder. “Come on Marsh, you owe me a drink.”

\---

_Three months earlier_

Two months and South Park remained the same… unmoving. It never got all that warm in the summer, but the wind died. So, stepping out of the truck, the very air that Stan breathed seemed the same. The people of South Park were outside for once, all sat enjoying the lukewarm rays of the sun. No doubt they would all be burnt by the end of the day.

No one was there to greet him. He hadn’t told anyone he was coming home, especially not his parents, but that was mainly because he hated this bit. He had brought Gary with him.

It had been an impulse decision to sign up for the wildlife conservation volunteer programme, fuelled mainly by the desire to get out of South Park so he didn’t have to watch his dad chug Bud Light shirtless on a deck chair in the yard for two months. Instead, he was planting trees and clearing litter in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, camping out in the Styx with seven other teenagers who all seemed to share a similar story. Turned out shitty summers were a dime a dozen in the Rockies.

The camp came with a near constant coat of dirt on his skin, but the feeling of his muscles burning with effort and getting to wash it all off at the end of the day was always worth it. Stan had loved every second of it.

“I can’t believe I’m already going to meet your parents. Should I be keeping an eye out for a ring?” Stan huffed a breath of amusement. Joke as he might, Gary was nervous.

Gary had arrived at the camp a week after Stan, and had recognised him instantly. Stan had to be reminded, but was almost immediately enchanted by him. Gary was smart, cultured, engaging, hot (of course) and just the gentlest soul Stan had ever met. Before they knew it, they were spending almost all their time together. During the day, they were planting crops and clearing mudslides. Afterwards they would gather with the rest of the group around the fire and talk for hours.

One night, about two weeks in, Gary had pulled Stan away from the fire. In the same breath, he kissed him and told him he had a boy waiting for him in Denver. In return, Stan told him of the crush on his friend in South Park he was actively trying to get over, then they pulled one another into the tent and kissed and touched until they came together in one another’s arms.  

The decision for Gary to stay in South Park had been a sudden one made by the fireside two nights before the camp ended. Now, Stan couldn’t say for sure if it was because the end was approaching, or because fifteen minutes earlier, Gary had pulled him away from the fire and proceeded to give him a blowjob that had even the tree he was up against shuddering, but Stan had been feeling romantic. In two weeks’ time, Gary was moving into his flat in Denver. Until then, with his family in Argentina, he had planned on staying at a hotel. Stan had got other ideas. So, for the two weeks before they left for university Gary would be staying in South Park with the Marsh family.

It wasn’t until they’d jumped into the truck, that it had occurred to Stan; he was essentially bringing home a boyfriend.

“Dude, it’s fine. Don’t feel any pressure it’s just so you have a bed for two weeks that won’t cost you 800 dollars.”

Gary smiled at him meekly.

“Don’t worry, Stan. I know what this is.” He said, and they both did. Stan may not have been so, but Gary had been honest about the friend in Denver. They both knew this was no more than a fling, and at that very moment, it was exactly what Stan needed.

“But really, should I have prepared something?” Gary asked, as they made for their bags in the back of the pickup. “Last time I saw your dad he kicked me out of his house.”

Heaving his bag on his back, Stan looked at Gary incredulously.

“Gary, that was like ten years ago.”

“Has he changed?”

Stan thought about it.

“Not even a little.”

Surprisingly, that didn’t help to calm Gary down so instinctively Stan reached for him. Curling his hand into strands of blonde hair, Stan gently pulled him closer. Resting their foreheads together, Stan smiled and murmured quietly into Gary’s ear.

“Gary, they’re going to love you.”

Eyes fluttering ever so slightly, Gary smiled, leaning just a little closer.

“What’s up faggots?”

Jumping apart almost instantly, Stan and Gary turned pale-faced to the speaker. A few steps away from them, basketball in hand, were Cartman and Kenny.

Well, who else would it ever be?

They must have been on their way to meet Kyle at the court.

“Right, Cartman’s still part of my life.” Stan drawled, without looking away from Gary. “You remember him, right? The terrible human being?”

Ever the saint, Gary dutifully ignored Stan’s scathing words, turning to the boys with a broad smile and even taking their hands to shake warmly.

“I remember. Kenny and Cartman right? It’s great to see you again.”

This threw them for a loop. Kenny and Cartman stayed quiet, glancing towards one another before Cartman spoke again.

“Who is this asshole?”

Well, so much for a warm welcome.

“Guys this is Gary, he lived here for a while when we were kids.”

The boys looked them up and down.

“Gary?” Kenny asked incredulously. “Gary the Mormon?”

“That is my official title.” Gary said with a small nod of his head. Stan smirked at the joke, nudging him lightly. His friends watched the exchange studiously. With a roll of his eyes, Cartman was, of course, the first to comment.

“God damn Stan, how you gonna go away for two months and still end up dating someone from South Park?”

That’s when the dithering started.

“We’re not dating.” Stan rattled off, glancing towards Gary who willingly offered support.

“I’m moving to Denver. I just needed a place to stay until I can move in.”

Cartman wasn’t listening but just bounced the basketball against the pavement through their rambling.

“Whatever, man I didn’t ask for your life story. Come on Kenny, we’ve got shit to do.” Without another word, Cartman pushed past them bouncing the ball as he walked.

“Well, he’s as nice as I remember.” Gary remarked. All Stan and Kenny could do was hum their reluctant agreement, as they had done throughout their entire friendship with Eric Cartman. After another moment of contemplative silence, Kenny shrugged his shoulders, stepping away from them as well.

“I better go too. Can’t leave Kyle and Eric to play basketball alone. They’d kill each other.” He said, smiling easily at them. ”It’s nice to see you again, Gary.”

Then he turned to Stan, and the smile softened.

“Welcome back dude.”

Stan accepted the hug, putting all the effort he could muster into making it as casual as possible, but still when their hands clasped together and he felt Kenny’s arm around his back, it set something off under his skin that Gary had yet to do.

For a moment, he considered saying something, but then Kenny pulled away, and the smile on his face was almost grateful.

“It’s good you had fun, Stan. Come down to the court if you guys get bored.” Kenny said, and with the quirk of an eyebrow his smile turned fatally promising. “It would be a pleasure to beat your skinny ass.”

Of course, he had to word it like that. Of course, Stan had to flush like a teenager with their first crush.

“Now that’d be a change.”

Kenny just laughed. Throwing one final wink their way, he took off after Cartman who by now was shouting for him impatiently at the end of the street.

Stan watched him go, gnawing on his lip in contemplation. That had been almost normal. Maybe after months of weirdness and Stan running away to the mountains, they could be friends after all.

The sound of a throat being cleared brought Stan from his thoughts. Turning to Gary, he wasn’t surprised to find him looking back knowingly.

“I think I can make it work.” Stan said. From the amused shake of his head, it seemed Gary knew exactly what he meant.

“Oh Stan, you’ve got a lot of growing up to do.”

Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Stan chuckled wryly.

“You’ve said that to me before, you know?”

Gary grinned back.

“I remember.” He said wistfully, taking a step closer. “I’ve had fun with you, Stan.”

“You also told me to suck your balls.”

“Well, you definitely had it coming.”

They started making their way to the front door.

“Does this offer still stand?”

Gary laughed.

“It was an open-end offer.”

Stan wasn’t sure what made him reach out and link their hands together, but Gary responded immediately smiling brightly towards him. His arm felt warm pressed against Stan’s. With their bare forearms pressing together and the pads of worn fingertips running over their palms, Stan found himself thinking of other hands running over his back. But still, he smiled. This was comfortable.

\---

_Present Day_

It took Stan three tries to slip the key into the lock and even more to finally dump Kenny on his bed. Between his own four beers and Kenny leaning almost entirely on his shoulder, he didn’t have much strength nor will to focus on the task. So, when he finally reached his goal, they tumbled face first forward onto the hard mattress below with Kenny giggling all the way through.

Slowly, Stan pushed himself up, groaning at the elbows and knees currently digging into his side. With a lot of effort, he turned to the giggling wreck that was his friend, nudging him in the side with his foot until Kenny yelped and rolled off him.

Laying across from each other, Stan took his first good look at him. Kenny’s pupils were blown out black in the light, drinking in every inch of Stan’s face with a thirsty grin. He was also compulsively licking his lips.

“God dammit Ken, what the hell did she give you?”

They had run into some of Kenny’s coursemates almost as soon as they’d arrived, and Stan had watched for almost half an hour from across the bar as Kenny charmed narcotics off one of the girls from his Philosophy class. Alone at the table, it had been a little hard not to feel like shit after that. It was probably around then that they decided to call it a day.

Beside him, Kenny was still useless. Propping himself up, he reached for Stan’s lips and pinched them shut.

“Shh, it’s a secret.” Kenny slurred his words, breathing warm tequila on Stan’s cheek. “The NSA can’t know I’m doing the drugs.”

Stan tried everything to hold the smile in.

“The drugs?”

“The drugs.” Kenny confirmed, nodding his head solemnly, and for a second all Stan could do was watch him.

“Right, ok, let’s get you to bed.”

With a grunt at the weight of it, he reached under Kenny’s arms, trying to pull his jacket off. Kenny remained perfectly uncooperative, of course.

“Are you coming too?”

Stan rolled his eyes.

“Get your shoes and pants off, dude.” Despite all the lewdly suggestive things Kenny could have and did say, he still obeyed. Kicking his shoes off, Kenny began absentmindedly unbuttoning his fly.

“Aren’t you compliant like this? Maybe you should take drugs from your classmates more often.”

“Only for you.”  

Kenny was getting drowsy now. Curling in on himself, his words came out as little more than a garbled murmur, but Stan caught it either way. Sat at the end of the bed, Stan watched as slowly but steadily Kenny fell asleep with his cheek in his palm and his breath a little more than a low hum. It was too much to take. With a frustrated groan, he buried his face in his hands and let himself fall back onto the bed.

Christ, this was going to be the death of him.

After a moment of wallowing in his own thoughts, Stan let his hands slip from his face and turned to take in his friend. It was 2AM but the steady stream of streetlight was filtering through the open curtains, illuminating Kenny’s face, his hair, in gold.

In the quiet, Kenny looked untouchable. In the past few months, from the moment Kenny had pushed him away, he had become almost sacrosanct to Stan in a way that kept him permanently out of reach. Sure, they lived together, but what did that mean when he spent half his life watching Kenny pick up girls at bars. They never talked about anything important anymore. Neither of them thought their friendship could take it, and that was the worst part. Just when had they become so vulnerable?

“Stan.”

Blinking away his thoughts, Stan refocused. Kenny had not opened his eyes, but the words had been said.

“Yeah?”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Was Kenny closer than before?

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not tired.”

Their words were barely a mumble. Stan was too afraid to shatter what little sleep Kenny had fallen into.

“I can help you.”

His breathing deepened. Definitely closer.

“How?”

“Come here.”

Kenny shifted forward and Stan was completely pliant in his arms. He let himself be folded over until his back was pressed against Kenny’s chest and warm fingers were skittering along his forearm. Stan’s skin heated under every small touch, sending shivers down his spine which only made Kenny move closer.

“Are you cold, Stan?” His voice was right by Stan’s ear, his breath warm against his neck, and Stan’s brain shut down. All his attention was directed to Kenny’s lips and the hand now running along his chest. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep away the desperate whine he could already feel building in his throat.

“You know I’m not.”

Kenny hummed thoughtfully, and it made Stan’s head spin.

“Then why are you shivering?”

Underneath Kenny’s hand, Stan’s chest began to burn with the effort to control his breathing, but then he felt fingertips graze over his nipples through his shirt. Stan gasped, and leaned into the feeling. He couldn’t help himself. But in leaning forward his position against Kenny changed slightly. Their lowers halves ran together and Stan felt Kenny’s crotch, pressed against him, with little more than underwear to shield them. Lord help him, Kenny was _hard_.

Stan barely dared to move, entirely unsure of what to do, until Kenny began to rock into him, his groans heavy against Stan’s ear. Stan felt the flood of arousal come hot and fast, and he was moving back into Kenny before he could stop himself.

“Oh fuck.”

Kenny didn’t move quickly, but rolled slowly, punishingly against him, thrusting in a way that held so much tension, so much restraint. It wasn’t enough. Stan could feel himself clenching with the desperate need for it to be real. Fuck, he had never needed someone inside of him this much before. He heard himself whisper Kenny’s name under his breath, and never had he sounded so desperate, so needy before. His own cock was straining against his trousers to the point that it ached, but still Kenny just hummed against his ear as if even now, he was still half asleep.

In the few moments in which his sanity returned, Stan had the mind to stop this. Kenny was high off his tits and just trying to get off, and a steady mantra was building in Stan’s head, reminding him that he would undoubtedly regret this in the morning, and if he didn’t, Kenny definitely would. But then Kenny’s hands started to slowly drift down the front of Stan’s shirt and tomorrow didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was touching and being touched, until Kenny’s hand actually closed around his crotch.

Stan’s control snapped. A desperate whimper escaped him before he shoved Kenny’s hands away and turned to roll on top of him.

“You can’t fucking do this to me.” Stan bit out, even as he finally felt the sizzle of their chests pressing together. Even with his clothes still on, he felt as if he was melded to Kenny, unable to get away.

Underneath him, Kenny merely grinned, looking him dead in the eye.

“You seem to like it.” This wasn’t Kenny. Stan could tell just by looking at him, because in that instance a barrier seemed to break within Kenny, and his face flooded with pure emotion. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Together, they started to rock in time, breathing each other in. Kenny moved against him as if he’d been doing it for years, knowing exactly where Stan wanted to be touched.

 It was too much.

“You don’t mean that.” Stan sighed, resting his forehead against Kenny’s and closing his eyes. His voice faltered, trying for a moment to think it was true. The words didn’t sit right with Kenny though, because next thing, he gripped Stan’s face and pulled him back up to look at him.

“What are you talking about? Of course, I do.”

But all Stan could see was those red eyes and the perfume of some other girl on him.

 “You wouldn’t be doing this without the drugs, Ken... You told me you didn’t want this.”

All movement stopped. Kenny seemed to be searching his eyes, looking for any sign that Stan wasn’t serious. He was though. It was hard to throw away six months of uncertainty.

“Jesus Christ Stan, you just don’t get it, do you?”

Stan knew when a moment was ruined. He was already moving when he felt Kenny’s hand on his shoulder, pushing him away. Kenny’s words and that frustrated tone still cut him though. If anyone had a right to be pissed off it was him. Kenny had essentially been avoiding him for months, and now he was acting surprised that Stan didn’t know where they stood. Stan felt his own anger rising. All the hurt and questions that had been building up since February were pushing against his lips, desperate to finally be said, but then Kenny rolled away from him.

His back was once again to Stan. Only this time when Kenny curled in on himself, he seemed so small. Stan just wanted to wrap him in his arms and rock him to sleep.

It hit him as he was reaching for his friend; none of his anger mattered more than Kenny’s suffering. Then came the thought that truly petrified him. Stan was in deep here. No matter what he’d said to Gary, Stan had passed crush months ago.

“Ken…”

It had to happen now. They had to talk about this now, because they had nothing to go back to. The thought of waking up in the morning, seeing Kenny and pretending nothing happened was unbearable.

He touched Kenny’s shoulder lightly, whispering his name again, but his friend did not move.

 “We should sleep, Stan.”

Stan felt the distance like a block of ice between them. He thought about grabbing him and forcing Kenny to face this. His hand even twitched with the beginnings of it, but Kenny just shuffled even further away, subtly pushing his hand away, and Stan just wanted out of there.

“You’re such a fucking coward, McCormick.”

It was unreasonable sure, but who the hell could think of reason after the most confusing and discouraging almost-handjob ever experienced? Stan couldn’t. So instead, he jumped off the bed, making sure to knock Kenny on his way up and fled the room.

It wasn’t until he was safely hidden away in his room that Stan allowed himself to think about what exactly had just happened. When he did the anger just came rushing back. Kenny had made it clear months ago that he did not want Stan, but apparently that did not extend to drunken molestations.

 Sinking onto his own bed, Stan once again pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. He could feel tears welling up out of pure helplessness. God damn, if he cried because of this it was all over. He would never be able to face Kenny again. Because all of the bullshit aside, Stan had liked it. _Holy fuck_ , had he liked it. Just the thought of Kenny’s touch on him was enough to have Stan’s hand sliding down his chest, gripping himself the way Kenny had barely five minutes ago. Stan let his mind reel with pictures of what could have happened if he’d just rolled over, taken those hands into his own, and directed them where he needed them to be.

It was with thoughts of hand and fingers, and Kenny’s lips on his own that Stan got himself off. Jerking against the sheets with a near silent gasp, Stan fell back in relief. Only nothing had changed and soon the heavy feeling of dread began to settle in once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So turns out nothing kills creativity faster than a 8 to 5 job. I'm so sorry for the wait. I really hope you enjoy it.


	5. Craig

## Chapter 4

## Craig

 

The apartment always looked nicer in the morning. They had barely been living there for two months, but Stan had grown more attached to it than even his home back in South Park. Sure, it was dingy; the electricity was forever shorting out when they used the microwave, and Kenny had dented the counter with his keys again, but Stan didn’t mind. They had something small and dingy together.

God, he was so fucking gay.

… and such an idiot.

Since last night, Stan had slept a total of three hours. The thoughts just kept coming. He couldn’t stop it; thoughts about Kenny, Gary, and the fact that it had taken almost cumming in his jeans like a goddamn thirteen-year-old to realise he was in love with one of his best friends.

Awake himself, Stan had heard Kenny get up for work that morning, and like the brave man he was, had stayed in his room until the coast was clear.

It was now well into the afternoon, he was supposed to be meeting Gary in a bit, but so far all he’d managed was little more than a change of clothes. Glancing in the mirror, he’d thrown on a beanie and some shades for good measure. If anything, it was to spare himself from the world.

He couldn’t even bare to look at his roommate’s door, until he was on his way out. Kenny wasn’t there. He knew that, but he opened the door anyway, smiling grimly. They made quite the team. Kenny’s room was a dump. Abandoned clothes were strewn everywhere from the bed, to the floor to the desk. Sweeping the room with his gaze, Stan rested on the jacket Kenny had worn last night. It lay crumpled on the floor with the pockets turned out. Kenny had taken his keys this morning, but a packet of cigarettes had tumbled out. Camel Lights. They liked the same brand.

Stan didn’t know what possessed him, but before he could reconsider it, he made a grab for the packet, leaving the apartment without a glance back.

\---

Gary made it all the way up to him before Stan even noticed.

“I didn’t know you were a smoker, Stan.” Smiling self-deprecatingly, Stan looked steadily between the cigarette and his friend.

“It comes and goes.”  He shrugged. Stamping it out on the rubbish bin, Stan rolled his shoulders back. He could already feel himself tense as he ushered Gary inside.

It had only been a few months, and yet Gary was somehow different from how he remembered him; somehow paler and tidier than imagined. There was no sign of the rugged weather weary skin that Stan was expecting. The sun was fading from his blonde hair. His fingernails were clean. He looked downright proper. Mormon.

As they took a seat, Stan found himself wondering just who it was he had been remembering all this time.

Gary broke the silence amicably.

“So how have you been?”

“Fine. You?”

They smiled.

“I’ve been great. Have you had a lot going on?”

“Chlamydia.”

The smile dropped.

“What?”

Fucking hell, he was going to kill himself. Fiddling with the coaster Stan forced the words like a laugh in a tour group.

“I mean, that’s why I called. I have… chlamydia.”

Gary barely reacted, and it was in that that Stan realised he had no idea what he had actually expected of him. Tentatively, Stan made himself look his way.

“Gary?”

“Well, that would explain the itching.” It was like he felt every single drop of blood drain from Stan’s face.

“You mean?” Stan started, forgetting the coaster his hands went to grip his fringe, knocking the hat back in the process. “Fuck man. Does this mean I gave it you?? Shit, Gary I’m so sorry.”

But Gary was laughing. With a polite hand to his mouth, and the other waving Stan’s words away he began to explain between giggles.

“It’s fine Stan. I got tested after you. I’m totally clean.”

Stan’s mouth fell open.

“You motherfucker.” The laughs started up again.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. You just looked so worried.”

“Saint Gary, my ass. You’re a total sadist.” Bringing his coffee to his lips, Gary’s laughs went from amused to incredulous.

“Saint Gary?”

“It’s what Kenny calls you.”

“Oh, and how is that going?”

_Disastrous_

“We’re fine.”

Setting his brow, Stan stopped talking. He wasn’t going to think about it. Except that it was all he could think about. He hadn’t even seen Kenny yet, but since last night, thousands upon thousands of scenarios had been running through his head. What were they going to say when they saw each other again?

“Do you want to go for a walk maybe?”

Across the table, Gary was giving him a very familiar look; Sympathy, Stan hated it.

“Sure, what the hell.”

Stan’s phone buzzed just as they were getting up to leave. Pulling it from his pocket, he couldn’t help but laugh at what he saw.

_‘No.’_

“You asshole.”

A few steps ahead of him, Gary turned around.

“Come again.”

Glancing up from his phone, Stan shook his head.

“Oh, no not you… Just a guy I need to talk to about...you know.” Beside him, Gary nodded in understanding.

“Ah, from the list? I feel closer to him already.” Stan nudged him in the side with a chuckle, and just received a grin in reply. “So, is all well with my wiener brother?” At that, Stan laughed for real.

“Ok, ignoring the fact that no one has said that for years, I have no idea. I’ve texted him a couple times, but he’s ignoring me.” Five times that week to be exact. Given that it was Craig, he would usually have been ok with leaving it, but as always, responsibility got the best of him.  

Stan paused to look at his phone again. ‘ _No’._ What could he even answer to that?

“We weren’t exactly close.”

\---

_Five weeks earlier_

Stan had sex with Craig in the back of a van.

…while on a date with another girl.

Yeah, not his best moment, but it was only his third week of college. He could allow himself a few clichés like screwing the brooding hot dude in the back of his band’s van surrounded by gig equipment. Even if said brooding hot dude was Craig Tucker from high school who was absolutely still a total dickhead.

The girl, Camilla, was also studying Ecology. Stan had met her a few nights earlier at a welcome event. Kind, beautiful and intelligent, Stan hadn’t stood a chance. It had been her smile that got him; the way it altered her entire face and made her light up. Her laugh was even better. So infectious that even when he was riddled with nerves, Stan couldn’t help but smile. Those days, only Kenny could manage that.

After the event, Stan had uncharacteristically asked her out for coffee, and even more unusually, she had said yes. So, the day was spent over caffeine and sugar packets. They wasted hours in the café deep in conversation about barely anything at all. Then, as the day came to a close, and the date should have finished, Camilla took his hand and lead him to a live music bar down the street.

She didn’t tell him much. Only that her band was playing.

Stan had never really been one for music, only really turning to it at the very deepest and darkest stages of his teenage angst. In all honesty, he was perfectly comfortable being a Top 40 kind of guy, the type that girls like Camilla usually wouldn’t go for. No, usually she’d go for guys like Kenny who only listened to bands that no one had ever heard of. No amount of coaching before the date was going to get Stan through this. In fact, all Kenny had really offered him when asked, was a chuckle and a “just don’t mention the Chainsmokers”.

And just like that Stan found himself at the back of the venue by the bar, listening to music he’d never heard before, watching people dance (if you could call it that) in ways he’d never seen before. Camilla was electric. Her presence changed on the stage, unravelling wildly into pure, unhinged talent. The rest of the band were great, but Stan took little more than a cursory glance towards them.

Which was why he didn’t recognise him until the set was over and they were heading his way.

Camilla reached him first, throwing her arms around him despite the beer in his hand. Holding it away from her, Stan leaned into the hug.  

The crowd was still rumbling with cheers as the music started up and the dancing began. Without asking, the bartender slid four pints their way.

“So, what did you think?” Stan turned back to her, grinning broadly.

“It was great. I’ve never heard anything like it before. You guys are amazing.” From behind him one of Camilla’s band mates was reaching around to grab a drink. The guy was taller than him, and Stan felt his damp t-shirt brush against him, sweat and musk flooding his senses. Stan shifted uncomfortably at the proximity, but he didn’t have any room to move.

Then he heard a voice in his ear.

“Must be a nice change from the trash you usually listen to.” Now, denial won out for a second, but that nasal voice could only have been one person. Chills running down his spine, he turned to the person behind him, coming face to face, chest to chest, with Craig Tucker. He didn’t even look surprised to see him. Swigging his drink, Craig merely raised an eyebrow in challenge. “What’s it like to finally listen to actual music, Marsh?”

Stan could not have backed away fast enough even as it nearly knocked the beer out of the other’s hands.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He said. Craig just looked at him like he was an idiot. Resting his weight on the counter, Craig leaned down so he was closer to Stan’s level. Fucking tall bastard.

“I was on the drums, Dickweed. Did you seriously just sit through our entire set and not notice?”

He hadn’t.

“I guess you just weren’t that memorable.”

Craig sneered at him, but his response was cut off. The rest of the band crowded around them.

“I’m sorry. You guys know each other?”

Neither of them looked away, glowering sourly at one another until finally, Stan turned back to her with a beguiling smile.

“We’re old friends from school.” He said, ignoring Craig’s snort. Save for the entirely appropriate elbow to the waist, of course. Unsurprisingly, Camilla didn’t look convinced.

“Oh really, were you close?” Stan replied instantly. No one needed to know the kind of insane things that happened in South Park. Let alone the amount of baggage they each carried around.

“Sure! We go way back.”

Thankfully, Craig seemed to agree, echoing Stan’s words, even as he viciously stepped on his foot.

“Inseparable. Yeah a lot of history here.” At that something dawned on Camilla’s face.

“Oh! Don’t tell me you two were…” The quick hand gesture said it all. So did Craig’s disgusted sputter.

“What?”

“No!” But Camilla was on a roll. Leaning in towards them, she smiled gleefully.

“Craig, don’t tell me this is the ex from back home.” Stan could think of little that could be worse than that exact moment. Well, perhaps actually being Craig’s ex. That would be a fucking nightmare.  “The nervous one.”

Dear god she thought he was Tweek.

“Camilla, look no, I’m not...”

She had made up her mind though. Despite all of the hand gestures and all of the pleading, Camilla was already backing away, telling them to talk things out. Stan even took steps to follow her, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him disarmingly.

“I like you Stan, I do, but you should give Craig another chance.” She said, brushing her fingers across his cheek. “He misses you a lot.” With a final thumbs-up, she walked away, leaving Stan stunned.

“I think your date is over.”

“Fuck off Craig.”

“No really.” He said, gesturing to where Stan’s date was already chatting with some other guy. Stan felt his heart sink. Staggering against the wall, he heaved a sigh.

“For fucks sake.” Craig didn’t retaliate, but instead clinked his drink against the rim of Stan’s glass, downing it in one go. “This is your fault, you know.”

“I’m not exactly thrilled either, Stan.”

That much was true. Stan watched him drink, imagining he could hear the chime of his lip piercings against the glass. In the dim lights behind the bar, Craig’s skin glowed from sweat and the stage lights he’d been under. His hair was much shorter than Stan’s. Where his was plastered to his forehead, Craig had pushed his back and it had rustled into short, dark spikes.

Errant drops of sweat still trickled from his forehead, dripping from his eyelashes, his nose, his lips. Stan’s eyes followed the hem of Craig’s black shirt along his collarbone until it met in a V at his chest. Craig’s skin was also paler than his, and stood stark against his black shirt.

“See something you like, Marsh?”

The words brought him back instantly. Snapping out of it, Stan looked away.

His throat suddenly dry, Stan tried to swallow, purposely ignoring Craig. Goddamn, he knew he was hard up -it had been weeks since the thing with Gary- but he must have been hitting real desperation if he was checking out Craig Tucker of all people.

Groaning involuntarily, Stan downed his drink. Somehow, this was Kenny’s fault. They’d been living together for a month now, and for a month Stan had watched him come home at night smelling of booze and sex. He’d watched him in the morning, shirtless and fresh out the shower, drape himself on the sofa or throw one of his arms around Stan as if it wasn’t supposed to drive him insane. There was only so much he could take.

Fuck, he was horny.

“It’s nothing to do with you.” The words came out just as Stan meant them. It wasn’t Craig, a sexy mannequin could have turned him on right then.

His drink long finished, Craig looked almost surprised at his honesty, but then something akin to understanding passed over his eyes. Without a word, Craig’s demeanour changed, as he leaned closer and the scent of sweat and alcohol diffused Stan’s senses.

“It could be, if you wanted it to.” When he spoke, his voice was deep with promise as Stan’s mind was assaulted with images of those long fingers gripping his hips as he rode him, pressing down tightly on those pale shoulders. The want hit Stan like a punch to the gut. Holy fuck, he did. He wanted it so bad.

 Stan flushed in mortification, it was enough to bring him back to his senses and realise exactly who he had just pictured himself with.

“Keep dreaming, Jackass.” He muttered, and even he knew it wasn’t convincing. Definitely time to bail. Leaving his glass on one of the side ledges, Stan began to look around for the exit. “Right, not that this hasn’t been thrilling but I’ve got to figure out how to get home.”

Craig adjusted quickly.

“You’re not living on campus?” He asked. Stan shook his head.

“No, I’m renting off site.”

“What the fuck for?”

“It’s cheaper that way.”

“Not if you’re living alone. You got a roommate?” This made Stan turn back to him, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

“You know for someone who’s not at all interested in me, you’re asking a hell of a lot of questions.” Craig didn’t reply, obviously deciding that he’d had enough or that he did not want Stan calling him out anymore. Impulsively, Stan decided to answer anyway.

“I’m living with Kenny.” He said, but his face dropped at Craig’s mean laughter.

 “Good luck with that.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He snapped. Craig just shrugged.

“You’ve only had the biggest hard-on for him for like months now.” He said, waving Stan out of his face. “and it’s pretty obvious he hasn’t fucked you yet.” Stan flushed. Was it that obvious?

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jackass.”

“You mean I didn’t notice you drooling over his ass any time he so much as bent to get something out his locker?”

Stan cringed in embarrassment. God dammit he hated him.

“Like you would even remember. You were too busy screwing over ‘your nervous ex’. You guys broke up nearly a year ago and you’re still talking about him? That’s a hang up man.” Was he being too harsh? Looking at the scowl on Craig’s face he might have been.

“Don’t got there, Stan.”

But he couldn’t stop.

“Is that why you’re on me about Kenny? Misery loves company? At least I never got dumped…”

And Stan could have kept talking, but through his rambling he felt a hand on his jaw pulling him in. Then there were lips on his, and Craig was kissing him hard. Not for long, but enough for Stan’s eyes to widen and his breath to stutter. When it was over, Craig pulled away only enough to see the astounded look on Stan’s face. For Stan, all but Craig’s lips were a blur.

“What was that for?”

Craig seemed to consider him, gleaning his reaction from his dumbfounded face.

“Just shut up.”

After that, there was no time for more words because in the next moment, Craig grabbed him by the arm and was herding him out the back door. They did not stop until they reached the van, already tearing at each other’s clothes.

His hands went for Craig’s hair first, pulling him in roughly to a kiss that made their teeth scrape against lips. Gripping tightly at Craig’s arms, he drove him against the van door, rubbing their bodies roughly together for friction that made them both gasp.

There was something deeply impersonal about the way they undressed. Shirts they pulled off themselves, hands going directly to each other’s flies. Pushing him away for a second, Craig opened the door, before he spun them around, pushing Stan back first into the van. Unzipping his jeans, Craig pushed him to the floor, unceremoniously dropping onto him. Caging his arms, his lips went to Stan’s ears, hot breath sending shivers down his spine and electricity through his veins.

 _“Fuck me.”_ And it was not ok how fucking turned on he sounded, nor how his cock jumped at the feel of hot skin against his and the realisation that Craig was just as hard.

Pulling away, Craig looked him in the eye, and Stan could see him searching. Neither of them were fully convinced this was happening or that they even wanted it. But then Craig leaned over him again, their erections brushed, and Stan knew, minds be damned, he wanted his body.

“Is that what you want Marsh?” He said, bringing them a breath apart. “Do you want me to fuck you?” Stan could feel the ridges of those piercings against his lips. Their hot breath was running together, fogging his senses. He would have replied, but words failed at the feel of a strong hand, long fingers running up his thighs. “Would the big Stan Marsh really get on his knees and let me fuck him into the van floor.” Craig’s fingers changed trajectory, his index finger rubbing slowly and deliberately up the seam of his trousers, pressing deliberately at his hole. Stan whimpered, as his hole clenched in anticipation. “Has it been that long for you? Sitting around just waiting for Kenny. How many times have you touched yourself while he was right on the other side of the door?”

God, he was going to lose his mind.

“Stop talking.” He pleaded, running his hands down Craig’s chest, because that’s what it was; breathy and whiney and desperate.

_Get it together Marsh._

Against his own, Craig’s lips twisted into a cruel grin as finally his dipped his hands into Stan’s pants, closing around his throbbing cock.

“You seem to like it.” He murmured, rubbing his index finger slowly, torturously over the head. “Does it get you off that much? Thinking about Kenny finally sticking his dick in your …AH!!”

With a jolt, Craig jumped back as if burned. Hand’s flying to his ass where Stan’s hands had dove in and he’d slipped just the one finger inside.

Grinning wickedly at him, Stan followed him up and reached for Craig’s hand, pulling it towards him. Slowly and purposefully, Stan brought the fingers to his lips, engulfing them one by one, moaning at the taste of himself and enjoying the way those eyes darkened to black in arousal even as that surprise stayed on Craig’s face.

When he pulled away, Stan grinned even wider.

“Don’t fuck with me, Tucker.” And if an angry Craig wasn’t just even better. Running his tongue over his teeth, Craig leaned in towards him. Stan felt a thrill run through him. With those hooded, blown out eyes and a snarl on his lips, he looked terrifying, and fucking hot as hell. Stan breath hitched involuntarily as the other boy growled and it shot right to his groin. “I’m not scared of you, Craig.” He breathed, “and I’m not the only one here wishing it was someone else… someone blonder.”

Oh, now Craig was really pissed off, but Stan no longer felt like things were spiralling out of control. This was better. Much better.

Craig seemed to think so too. One hand pulling down his jeans, Craig grabbed him by the back of the neck with the other.

“Well let’s get on with it shall we?”

Stan let himself be rolled over and let Craig’s weight push him into the rough carpet of the van’s floor. Resting back onto his haunches, Craig pulled Stan’s trousers down to his knees, urging him to lift his hips with nimble fingers. Stan regretted the position almost instantly as the chill hit his legs. It wasn’t anything like being taken apart verbally, but still Stan felt exposed.

Craig brought a hand to the back of his head, holding him in place against the floor, his face resting in his arms. He didn’t use his mouth anymore, but let his hands trail down Stan’s back before he reached the dip in Stan’s hips. Curving them around Stan’s hips, pulling him up against Craig’s crotch.

A hiss escaped both of them at the contact, as Craig’s cock slid seamlessly into the cleft of Stan’s ass. They stayed there for a moment, rocking into each other. Stan couldn’t help but gasp, pressing back into Craig’s erection. He didn’t stop until the grip on his hip tightened, stilling him.

“God, Stan, you gotta stop that.” He ground out, squeezing him. Stan let his head fall back into his arms, groaning in frustration.

“Then hurry the fuck up.” He snapped back. Behind him, he heard a shift, as Craig reached across to his bag, pulling out a tube of lube, and cursing sharply under his breath when the condom box turned up empty. Stan snorted derisively.

“You bring that shit to your gigs?” Tossing the box aside with a shrug, Craig shot him a filthy look in reply.

“I get some pretty desperate people throwing themselves at me afterwards.”

Stan scoffed again.

“Don’t think this is about you, Asswipe.” He muttered, hating the shiver that ran down his spine when Craig chuckled in reply. Opening the lube, he pressed it into his fingers, running the cool substance slowly along the rim of Stan’s hole.

“Oh, I know,” Craig drawled, bending over to breathe along the shell of Stan’s ear. Biting it viciously, he slipped the finger inside. “This is all about Kenny.”

From then on, all Stan could do was swear. Craig wasn’t gentle. He was rough, and inconsiderate, and, _fuck,_ if he wasn’t everything Stan needed. Neither of them were patient enough to do it properly, Stan pleading almost instantly for another finger, then a third.

He felt completely humiliated, all but begging to be touched. The only thing that helped was that Craig was just as reckless, all the time biting filthy words into his ears. Stan was driving him to the brink of pure desperation, because they both knew the feeling. There was having sex, and then there was _this. B_ eing wanted. Needed.

Craig’s hands were shaking when he finally withdrew his fingers. Not being able to wait anymore, his hands went straight for the lube, rubbing it on himself, looking Stan down possessively. Pressing the tip against Stan’s hole, Craig breathed slowly to steady himself.

“Are you ready?” He asked, but his voice was husky and cracked from exertion, and when he replied, Stan’s voice was just as rough.

“Just do it.”

He was too far gone for any second thoughts. So all he could do was moan, falling forwards, when Craig pushed inside, finally all the way in.

_“Fuck.”_

The heat, the pressure, it made both of them swear, leaning into each other to feel it even more. Stan wanted to be filled, consumed.

He wanted to not think about Kenny.

Then Craig started thrusting, and his mind went blank. The thrusts were harsh, and punishing. Stan even winced at the roughness, but he didn’t tell him to stop. He didn’t want to. It was that crushing feeling that was driving him to the edge, and it didn’t take long before he reached the end.

Craig’s hands were everywhere; running up his back, his chest, his dick, urging Stan forward, making him lose it. Pushing back against the thrusts, impaling himself on Craig’s dick, Stan choked out his final words, before he was cumming all over the carpet. It didn’t take long for Craig to follow, then they were tumbling forward, their weight collapsing underneath them, as they lay there spent on the van floor.

They didn’t spend any time cuddling. That wasn’t what it was for them. Craig was the first to move, pulling out and leaning back to sit against the equipment stacked against the wall. As soon as Stan caught his breath, he sat up, gratefully taking his t-shirt when Craig threw it his way.

They didn’t look one another in the eye. Stan not quite wanting to admit what he’d done, or that it had been amazing. He was surprised that Craig was the one to break the silence.

“Don’t feel too bad about this, you know.” Craig murmured. “I know what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t want you back.”

Stan balked at the words. Finally looking his way, he frowned at Craig, ignoring how those words crushed against his chest.

“I’m not in love with Kenny.” He said, taken aback at the sudden change in the other guy’s mood. This thing with Kenny was a crush, that was all. Nothing big or nearly as dramatic as Tweek and Craig.

Craig didn’t say anything. He just looked at him knowingly. With the slightest of sighs, he pulled his own shirt back on, turning away.

“Ok, Stan…” He said, buttoning his pants with a grim smile. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

\--

_Present Day_

They walked silently for a while once out of the cafe. Seeing as Stan was being about as forthcoming as a deadlock, Gary didn’t push it. When he did speak it was about silly things; his plans for the weekend, the weather, the last film he saw, but Stan was too spaced out to notice. It was ok though. Gary didn’t seem to mind.

Then he heard his name.

“Yo, Stan!” Looking up, Stan saw them across the street, walking in the opposite direction. His heart nearly stopped.

“Kenny!” He said, definitely not shouting as he turned his attention to the one who had actually shouted him down. “You’re with Clyde. What the hell are you doing here?” In response to that, he got an eyeroll as Clyde patted him on the shoulder, probably not meaning to be entirely condescending.

“Visiting, duh. Tweek and I are up for the weekend to see Craig.”

“Tweek?”

Clyde just grinned knowingly. 

“No shit right? Apparently, they’re talking again. We might get a season two.”

“Really?” He murmured absently. That must have been why Craig had been avoiding him like the plague recently.

“Yeah really, sorry to break it to you. I know you had it pretty bad for him.”

…

“Come again?”

Again, Clyde gave him that pitying, condescending look. _Clyde did_. What the fuck was happening?

“Yeah, Craig told me everything. Like, that you had a thing for him so he hooked up with you once because he felt bad for you.”

Stan wasn’t the only one struck dumb. Beside Clyde, Kenny was staring at him, absolutely astounded. In the absence of words, Kenny spoke for his friend. The words came out slowly and carefully, as if Kenny were defusing a bomb.

“Craig told you that?”

Clyde, bless his heart, didn’t notice a thing. Instead he shook his head disappointedly at his friend.

 “Yeah man. I saw all the texts you sent him. I told him that’d just make it worse. He’s kind of insensitive about this stuff.” He shrugged. “But you know, I always figured him and Tweek are end game. I mean they’ve been like this since forever so you know… sorry Stan.” 

Stan didn’t know what to do with himself, so he just stared. Kenny looked like he was going to piss himself.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Now it was Clyde’s turn to frown.

“Huh?”

“Where the fuck is he??”

Kenny cracked. The laughter spilled out of him like a broken dam, as Stan didn’t bother to wait for an answer but just stormed off in the direction they’d come in. Clyde, Gary, all of them be damned.

The only one who followed him was Kenny. Stan heard him say goodbyes to the guys, sparing a quick apology for Gary, before he trotted after Stan, laughing the entire time.

“Stan, do you want me to tell you to think this through?”

“Fuck off, Ken.”

“I thought so.”

But Stan couldn’t let it go. Grinding to a halt, he turned to his friend, throwing his hands in the air in unbridled frustration.

“He’s telling people I’m in love with him, that I’m _stalking him._ _Me_ stalking _Craig fucking Tucker._ Can you believe that shit?!”

The smile didn’t go.

“Well, you did text him like five times this week.”

“Watch it, McCormick.”

“You’re so sexy when you growl like that, Stan.”  Stan was about to yell back at him for not taking it seriously, but then he saw it.

They had come to a stop outside a café. One of those hipster coffee-cum-vape joints Stan wouldn’t be caught dead in. He could hear the chatter and soft rock music drifting out the door, but that wasn’t what distracted him. It was Craig.

He was sat at a window seat right across from them, barely three steps away.

Kenny noticed them almost immediately, jumping into Stan’s tracks before he could storm into the café and throttle him.

“Now Stan, think about this.” He urged, putting his hands on Stan’s shoulders when he tried to barrel past him anyway. “I know you want to kill him right now, but you realise your information source is Clyde right?”

“So fucking what? Get out the way.”

Kenny was physically pushing him back at that point. That the others hadn’t noticed was some kind of miracle.  


“He’s a compulsive liar! You know that. And Tweek’s there too. Do you want to mess that up for them?”

Stan stopped struggling, glowering at Kenny.

“Stan, you’re pouting.”

“Shut up.”

Kenny just kept smiling. At this point, Stan didn’t think his friend could help but laugh at him.

“Ugh, fine! I won’t mess it up for him.” He snapped, pulling back from the hold on him. He turned his eyes resentfully to the couple in the window. Craig looked genuinely terrified, which was something at least. It wasn’t difficult to see how much this meant to him. Stan didn’t have the heart to ruin that.

He was wheeled around at the clap of Kenny’s hand on his shoulder. His friend squeezed him comfortingly as they headed away from the café.

“Atta boy. See, this is good! Craig and Tweek are reunited, and you go down in history as a poorly judged albeit terrific one-night stand. Everybody wins.” Kenny grinned at him. “Well, not you I suppose… what with the chlam…”

“I got it, dude.” Stan snapped, really wishing he could wipe that smirk of Kenny’s smug face.

“How did Saint Gary take it?”

“It wasn’t a problem at all. Apparently, he gets tested regularly so he knows he’s clean.” Stan said with a shrug. Instantly, Kenny stopped walking, forcing Stan to come to a halt beside him. Frowning at the sudden surprise on Kenny’s face, he looked his way.

“Saint Gary was clean?”

Stan’s brow furrowed further.

“Yeah.”

“He was _clean_.”

“Yes, dude. Why are you being so weird about this?” For a moment, Kenny just stared at him blankly, but then he heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

“Stan, just to reiterate. Saint Gary does not have chlamydia.”

“Ok now you’re just being an assho…”

“Gary didn’t have it.” Kenny interrupted, raising one finger into Stan’s face. More fingers came up with every name to follow. “Wendy didn’t. Neither did Kyl…”

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

Kenny’s shoulders actually sagged in relief.

“Oh, thank god. I thought I’d have to spell it out for you.” He sighed. Stan felt the fury like a balloon in his throat. He could barely breath he was so overwhelmed by it.

“Craig?!” He exclaimed, not caring about the stares it garnered. “Craig _‘he had a thing for me so I pity-fucked him_ ’ Tucker??”

“Wow, you really took that to heart, huh?”

Even in the face of his anger, Kenny managed to stay remarkably calm. It was infuriating. Looking him up and down, Stan turned it over in his head again, coming to a decision. Fuck being the bigger man.

 “Dude, give me your gum.”

Kenny did not move. Actually dropping the smile from his face, and glancing around to see if Stan might have been talking to someone else.

“What?”

“Gum. Kenny. Gimme.” For a moment, Kenny just stared at him, before he slowly reaching for his pocket, but Stan just shook his head. “No, the one in your mouth.”

“You’re into some weird shit Stan.” He said, yelping as Stan all but threw himself at him, fingers going right for his mouth. Kenny had to grab his hands to keep his mouth from being pried open. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Stan did not slow down.

“Just give it here.” He ground out, wriggling his fingers to try and get closer to Kenny’s lips. Genuinely freaked out, Kenny threw a hand up in surrender.

“OK ok, chill out. You can have it.” He said, pulling the gum from his mouth and pressing it into Stan’s hand. “What the actual fuck, Stan?”

Stan wasn’t listening though. He was already halfway down the street, back outside the café. He heard Kenny take after him with a shout of his name. He didn’t look back, instead, Stan was rifling through his bag.

He found what he was looking for just as Kenny reached his side. Ignoring his friend, he stuck the gum to the paper, slamming it into the window with as loud a thud as possible.

Craig jumped. Tweek almost lost his damn mind. Hand flying to his chest, Stan thought he actually saw Tweek’s eyeballs pop out of his body.

“Stan?”

It took Tweek a bit to regain his composure, looking from one boy to the other with a frown. It was only afterwards that he turned to the note stuck to the window, by which point Craig had had more than enough time to read it. The colour had entirely drained from his face.

There in beautiful bold letters was the note that said it all:

To whom it may concern

A current or recent sexual partner is sending you this card as they have been found to have a sexually transmitted disease called **CHLAMYDIA**.

Some people with **CHLAMYDIA** have no symptoms but **CHLAMYDIA** can have serious complications, although now thought less likely if you have no symptoms.

You should be tested and treated for **CHLAMYDIA**. Please take this card to either your GP or your sexual health clinic.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Craig just stared at the note in horror, his mouth falling open. Even Kenny was lost for words. It was perfect. As a final salute, Stan flipped him off with both fingers before grabbing Kenny’s arm and storming away.

Stan dragged them down the block, well away from the café before either of them said anything. Their pace slowed gradually until they finally stopped, standing in silence for a moment before the tension was cut and Stan doubled over with a heavy gasp.

“Oh my god, that felt better than the sex.”

Kenny just stared at him, his chest heaving.

“Stan, you’re insane.” He breathed, and Stan just looked at him, grinning wickedly.

“Tell me he didn’t have it coming.” He could already feel the laugh bubbling in his throat. After a little consideration, Kenny finally shrugged.

“Yeah he totally had it coming.” He said, sighing. “I guess that’s Tweek and Craig done for.”

Stan just shook his head. Straightening up, to walk at Kenny’s side.

“What? No way. You heard Clyde, they’re end game. The one true love story.” He whined in a terrible impression of their old classmate. Kenny had to chuckle at that.

“I heard. My condolences, Stan.” He laughed, but even this sounded slightly dejected, and in that moment it all came back to Stan. He was an idiot. He had let last night get completely lost in what just happened. Now that they were alone, it was all they had left.

Kenny and Stan brushed against one another as they walked, neither putting any distance between them but neither pushing any closer.

Stan wasn’t sure what came over him, but in the silence the words just came out.

“Craig’s not the one I’m in love with.”

He knew what that tone, that wording meant, and even if nothing in Kenny’s demeanour changed, he knew that Kenny understood it too. His gaze stayed fixed ahead. His step did not even falter.

 “Let’s go home, man.”

It wasn’t good enough. Not nearly enough. Coming to a halt, Stan reached forward and gripped his friend’s arm.

“Kenny.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. Turning around, he smiled sadly at Stan. Running a hand through his hair, he looked down the street, breathing shakily.

“I know, Stan.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I hope you like it! This one was especially fun to write. You've got to love Craig haha


	6. Kenny

There was frost on the car the morning they left.

It wasn’t many weeks after the Craig incident, but just long enough for Stan to stop taking his medication, and Kenny to make himself forget it ever happened.

Since his almost confession that sunny afternoon, Kenny hadn’t mentioned it or Craig or anything to do with the turn their friendship had taken as of late. He had taken to spending as little time at home and with Stan as humanly possible.

For once, Stan was on the same page. He took to spending more time out of the house. Silently, he stood back and watched their apartment become a graveyard.

That morning they were driving home for Christmas. The holidays had begun the day before, and both Stan and Kenny had rung them in separately at the same bar. Kenny had been so slick about it too, not letting on that he wanted away until an excuse presented itself naturally in the form of his classmates. Forget that it was the same classmates who had drugged him out his mind not long before. Resentfully, Stan watched as Kenny accepted whatever that girl gave him. The lesson had not been learned.

They made it twenty minutes down the road before Stan cracked under the pressure.

“Kyle wanted to know if you wanted to hang out tonight.”

“They’re back already?”

“Last night. You in?”

“Yeah.”

They lulled back into silence. It only took a few more attempts before Stan got the message. They drove on quietly.

The frost had developed into substantial mounds of snow by the time they reached South Park. All the way it had been shovelled to the side, piling into mountains at the side of the road. They would have almost missed the tired sign announcing the town, but a lifetime of memories stopped them.

“Welcome home, Stan.” He looked away from the road for a moment, glancing towards Kenny. His lips were a grim line behind the cradle of his hand. He probably hadn’t wanted to come in the first place.

A gentle smile pulled across Stan’s face.

“Welcome home, Ken.”

They drove to Kenny’s first. His younger sister was at the door, ready to throw herself into his arms. With a quick wave and a promise to text later, Kenny disappeared inside.

Stan watched him go, waiting until the McCormick door closed behind him before pulling away.

Stan had skipped Thanksgiving this year. The last time he’d returned home had been hand in hand with Gary. Now, he was looking at the Christmas lights from their living room and the sight of his mother and father already arguing, and it took significantly more effort to propel himself inside.

His father got to him first. Throwing himself onto Stan and knocking him off balance, he wailed as if he had not seen him in years. His mother came next, shoving her husband out the way, she grabbed hold of him cooing and glaring very pointedly at Randy. Stan let it happen. They’d clearly been fighting about something to do with him again. Shelly was the only one to actually greet him normally with a customary punch in the arm, although they had significantly depleted in force over the years.

That was it for the afternoon. Stan stayed as long as he had to over snacks and arguing before retreating to his bedroom. Dumping his bag on the floor, he fell onto the bed, feeling the mattress depress with his weight.

The sheets were freshly cleaned which was more than he could say of the ones he’d left at college. As for the rest of the room, nothing had changed, everything holding its breath until he returned. Astounding how it could simultaneously feel like a lifetime and just a day since he’d been there. Looking around, Stan could see himself everywhere, from the taped-up poster that Cartman had ripped three years before to the spot on the floor where Kyle always used to perch when he came over.

Kenny was there too. In the pre-school dinosaur figures on his bookshelf to the porn-mag stuffed into his desk drawer. Eighteen years he’d lived in this room, he’d known Kenny McCormick. They had left grubby fingerprints all over each other lives.

Stan brought his palms to his face, breathing until he felt all the stale air leave his lungs. He missed him already.

_Ding!_

Stan’s heart leapt to his throat as his phone vibrated on the nightstand. Reaching blindly for it, he grabbed it and brought it to his face. It was Kyle.

_Yo we’re going to the diner. Be there in 10._

Stan groaned. He really didn’t feel like going.

His phone buzzed again.

_I know you’re sick of your parents already. No excuses._

Stan snorted, grinning broadly at his phone. Maybe he was too transparent. Sending off a quick reply, he watched the screen collapse onto his regular contacts, lingering over Kenny’s name.

Squashing the instinct to just lock his phone and walk away, Stan sent a second text. He refused to make things weird between them.

_Meeting Kyle and Cartman at the diner in 10 if you can bear to tear yourself away from your family._

He put the phone away, reaching for his jacket. To his surprise, it buzzed instantly.

_I‘m Christmassing, Marsh. Have you no respect for tradition?_

Stan smiled despite himself and typed.

_Getting into the festive spirit?_

Kenny was just as quick. Stan could just see him, reclined on his bed smirking at his phone.

_Damn right. I’m shoving tinsel up my ass as we speak_

Stan probably shouldn’t have replied to that, but hell, Kenny started it.

_Your sexting is so avant-garde_

His phone buzzed again.

_I’ll see you there._

_\---_

_One year earlier_

When Stan and Kyle had declared they were dating over soda and half-eaten subs, Kenny’s first thought had been of Cartman. Never one to show his hand, Eric hadn’t said anything to him or anyone, but Kenny had known either way. It wasn’t out of some profound bond they shared. No, anyone who actually paid attention to Eric would have known, because in that moment his blood was boiling. It was written all over, from his face to the veins popping in his clenched fists.

So, Kenny was already out the way when the mountain dew flew across the table. Everyone else swore violently, scattering away from the splash.

_Yeah_ , Cartman had it bad.

Kenny’s second thought, was of the money he had just lost to Bebe. As the truly super best friend he was, his bets had always been in Eric’s court. This loss was definitely going to sting his wallet; he’d be out of lunch money for a bit, but what else was new. Honestly, his friends were so selfish.

That was the extent to which he considered the news, dismissing it as what it was: only vaguely his business. So, when Kyle pulled him aside after lunch to ask him how he was doing, Kenny had been a little surprised, but he hadn’t lied. He was fine.

“Honestly, it’s just a blip. Kyle’ll realise you’re his lobster in no time.” He said it confidently as they hopped out of Cartman’s ride after school that day. Eric just grunted, not sparing him a glance as he let them into the house. Kenny followed without hesitation.

“I’m serious! We just need to help it along a little. I’ll start dropping hints about this journey of self-improvement you’ve been on recently, and you’ll maybe stop throwing soda at him in the cafeteria.”

“It hasn’t happened that many times.” “Dude, it’s happened enough times.”

Eric shrugged off his jacket, swinging it at him, but Kenny caught it without missing a beat. “

Stop talking about it.”

Kenny ignored him, throwing the jacket back.

“They won’t last.”

”Whatever man.”

Kenny could take a hint. He shut up and followed his friend into kitchen. Neither of them spoke as Eric rifled through the cupboards, carelessly tossing everything he could find on the counter. Kenny watched with a frown as the pile of saturated fats and additives expanded. He hadn’t been kidding earlier, whether his friends noticed it or not, Eric was genuinely trying to be better. Over the past few months, Kenny had seen him struggle to name and destroy his demons; no more lying, binge-eating, binge-drinking. Eric was getting better. Like hell he was going to now watch in silence as all of that went out of the window.

“You know it’s cool if you’re not ok with this.” He said it in a whisper barely audible over the slamming of cupboards, but Eric heard him anyway.

Kenny moved closer, placing his hand tentatively on Eric’s shoulder. To this day, his friend was uncomfortable with touch. They trod carefully around each other, but Kenny needed him to know that Eric didn’t need to confess anything. He got it.

“I’m bummed too, you know? They’re our friends. We’re probably not going to hang out as much anymore which sucks ass but it’ll blow over, I swear.” Eric was hunched over now with one hand pressed to the counter, the other cupping his temple as if to fight off a looming migraine. There was a grumble in his throat that told him Eric was fighting a growl.

“Who are you saying this for, Ken?”

“Huh?”

“Who are you saying this for?”

It wasn’t just his shoulders; his whole body was tense with barely contained anger. Kenny faltered. Pulling his hand away, he frowned.

“You, dude.” Eric stood up. When he did, he towered over him. Kenny had to crane his neck to maintain eye contact.

“Fuck off.”

What the hell was happening?

“What?”

“I said fuck off. Stop kidding yourself.” Stunned, he let Eric barge past him to the fridge. He wrenched the door open and reached for the six pack inside. That was no surprise. Eric had been drinking since he was thirteen, and sure he was in a bad place right now, but this cryptic shit was pissing Kenny off.

“What the hell is your problem?”

The fridge slammed shut, and Eric was glaring at him again.

“You, asshole! You’re so in denial it’s fucking embarrassing. Talk shit about them if you want, I’m all for it. Just stop acting like you’re doing it for me when you’ve been in love with Stan since before I even looked at Kyle.”

Kenny shut up.

Anything he was going to say died instantly in his throat. Clamping his teeth shut, he stared at his friend, a queasiness seizing his chest. Eric eyed him, savouring the satisfaction of Kenny’s silence.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Kenny held his breath.

“You’re wrong.” Eric scoffed dismissively, turning his back on him. Kenny just watched, feeling the anger build up inside him. “I’m not in love with Stan.”

But again, Eric just laughed and the sound of it alone sent Kenny into turmoil.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m not.”

“Open your eyes man. You should see your face right now. You look like you want to knock me out for even suggesting it.” That much was true. Eric’s words brought some sense back to him, because now it was Kenny who was growling. His fists were clenched. It was Kenny who was one push away from slamming his best friend into the wall out of sheer panic. Damn, he was losing it. Eric could and would kill him if he wanted to. No skin off his nose.

Luckily, his friend really had been mellowing out recently. When he spoke, it was even with a hint of empathy.

“So, you want to try that again?”

“Not really.”

Eric pushed him, chuckling a little as Kenny just let himself fall back against the wall, dragging a hand across his face. Reality had got him hard, and he felt ragged with it. Slouched against the refrigerator, Eric didn’t look much better.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?”

Eric shook his head.

“Not a damn thing.”

Kenny scrunched his nose against the words. Choosing to ignore how shitty and defeatist Eric sounded, he walked forward, clasping his hand and pulling his friend upright.

“Come on man, you can do better than that.” Eric scoffed, grabbing the beer and leading the way back into the living room. Kenny took whatever crap was closest and followed after him.

“What do you want from me? To Julia Roberts it? This ain’t My Best Friend’s Wedding.”

“Oh my god, you are obsessed with that movie.”

“Eat me.”

Kenny grinned despite himself, and they dropped onto the couch. Waiting until Eric’s hands were occupied with the controls, Kenny threw the bag of chips square into his face. Eric barely acknowledged it, but punched his arm viciously as soon as he had the chance. Kenny fell back with a surprised yelp, rubbing the spot like his arm was about to drop off.

That was the last they ever spoke of it.

\---

Kenny could have spotted them from a mile away. Kyle and Cartman were sat alone at their booth. Four square feet of no-man’s land had formed around them where the locals had stepped back in astonishment. With their brand-new clothes and imposing demeanour, there was nothing quiet about them, but that wasn’t why people were staring. The town had watched all of them grow up. They had watched Cartman, and on occasion Kyle mature and acuminate, wrecking the town repeatedly in the process.

It had always been a given that Kyle was Cartman’s, albeit self-appointed, gate-keeper. To see them now, fingers brushing, and knees pressed together over milkshake and coffee was crazier than any demon lord of mecha-robot South Park had seen. If they hadn’t known better, people would have said they looked in love.

Just shows what people know.

Surpassing the stares, Stan and Kenny slid into the booth opposite them.

“Hey guys.”

Cartman and Kyle sprang apart, looking to them in surprise.

Kenny could see the excitement bloom in Stan at the grins on their faces. Kenny felt it too. More than his family, this felt like home. Kyle pulled both of them into a quick hug across the table before they both settled back into their seats. Eric shook their hands.

They talked about nothing at first, filling the time until the drinks arrived with dorm rooms and majors and travel hours. That never sat well with Kenny though so as soon as there was a lull in conversation, Kenny pressed his arm into Stan’s, relishing the naïve panic that sprang into his eyes with a broad grin.

“That’s a big smile you’ve got there, Kyle. Have you forgiven Stan the chlamydia scare?”

The mood dropped instantly. The look on Kyle’s face said it all, he’d only forgotten. Ever the mind-reader, Stan just groaned, preparing himself for the inevitable mockery.

“Can you please stop looking at me like that? I’m clean already.”

“Sure, you are, you dirty hippy.” He let it go. Something would have been wrong if Cartman hadn’t spoken out, even if the words were muttered against the rim of his drink. Kenny held in the chuckle. It was best if Stan didn’t find out how much he enjoyed showing him up.

“Yeah, and Craig came out of it without a black eye so that’s a win.”

Cartman and Kyle choked simultaneously, sputtering drinks across the table.

“Craig?”

That was all they said, and it took a moment for Kenny to catch on. When he did, he immediately turned to Stan, his heart stuttering. Sure enough, he could not have sunk lower into the seat if he tried.

“You mean they didn’t…?”

Stan looked mortified.

“They do now.”

Kenny was speechless. He didn’t think it was possible for Cartman to look anymore thrilled than he did in that moment.

“You fucked Craig?”

The words were out before he could stop himself. It was just too good.

“Well, actually…”

“Kenny, I will end you.”

He shut up, but the smirk on Cartman’s face told all; he knew exactly what was going to be said next. Stan could tell too. It was enough to send him out of his seat, the grimace deepening by the second.

“Right, not that this isn’t super awesome, but I need to leave, like now, before I kill myself.” Even Kyle was laughing now, and Stan really did look like he was going to bolt. In that moment, Kenny’s sympathy finally kicked in. Reaching for his friend, he took Stan’s wrist, letting his thumb run soothingly over the pulse point. He absolutely did not notice how it jumped under his touch.

“Stan, I’m sorry. I promise I thought they knew.” He murmured, smiling fondly at him. Only now Stan really did look in pain. Staring straight into his eyes, Kenny felt his breath hitch at the look. God, there was so much yearning there. Stan looked at him with a hunger that made his skin crawl. Around them, the laughs had simmered down. Kyle and Eric were nothing but background.

Then the contact was broken.

Pulling his hand away, Stan cradled his wrist, and with little more than a murmur he scurried away to the bathroom. He left a silence behind that Kenny felt like a blow to the head. He could already feel the eyes boring into him before Stan was so much as out of earshot. As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Kyle dove in.

“Ok, what the hell was that, jackass?”

Of course, they were doing this. Kenny smiled at him guilelessly.

“You know Kyle, Cartman is a terrible influence on you.”

“No way, man, we’re talking about you right now.” Kyle said, ignoring when Kenny swore under his breath. “What was that just now?”

But Kenny wasn’t about to be defeated. Facing his friends head on, he blinked at them innocently.

“What do you mean?” Kyle tutted. It really was an awful habit.

“What he means, Justin, is what’s up with you and Stan?” Kenny fought the frown. Cartman and Kyle were so much more annoying now that they were working as a unit.

“There’s nothing up with me and Stan.” He said. And it was the truth, but still he had to watch resentfully as their eyes widened simultaneously like the Midwich fucking Cuckoos they were. “You’re really the worst kind of couple, you know that?”

And the world must have been ending because neither of them even tried to deny it. That really was something. Kenny never thought he would see the day where Cartman and Kyle weren’t the biggest problem they had as a group.

“Look, I don’t know the details, but whatever is going on you need to fix it.” Kyle said between accusing gestures. “We’ve been here like five minutes and Stan’s made more of an ass of himself than he ever did when we were together. He’s crazy about you, dude.”

“Are you seriously telling me to ask out your ex-boyfriend?”

Kyle frowned, throwing a glance to Eric. “Is that your problem? Me and Stan?”

Kenny felt himself squirm. This was just getting worse by the second. Where the hell was Stan?

“It’s _a_ problem.”

“It’s _history_ is what it is.” Kyle insisted firmly, “Seriously, we’ve moved past it. Don’t you think you should to?”

And, of course, it was just that simple. Relationship over. Everyone forgets it ever happened.

Except it did happen, and Kenny could feel himself slowly going mad as everyone around him chose to rewrite their year. Looking at them now, huddled together as if this was how it had always been, Kenny felt a sting of betrayal that he could do nothing to stop.

“I don’t want your seconds, Kyle.” His words were sharp. Too sharp. Across the table, both Kyle and Eric bristled as slowly their lips twisted into identical snarls.

“You know, you can be a real douchebag sometimes, Kenny?” Kyle said, and he felt himself flush in shame. It wasn’t anger he heard in Kyle’s voice. It was disappointment.

But that was nothing compared to how his heart plummeted at the sudden change in both their faces when Stan slipped wordlessly back into the booth. Kenny didn’t speak, didn’t think he could if he wanted to. For what felt like millennia, they just sat there in silence, but then Stan smiled and breached conversation, and it was like it never happened. Like he hadn’t heard. They went back to normal, and that was it.

They stayed there all afternoon, catching up over a steady stream of coffee. They did not talk about how Kyle and Eric slowly relaxed into each other. Nor did they mention the wall of ice as it slowly crystallised between Stan and Kenny. He was too much of a coward to. Instead, Kenny sipped his coffee, darting sideways glances only occasionally, talking himself into believing that no harm had been done.

\---

And for a while it was easy to, because life took over. Days passed, and he saw less and less of his friends.

Christmas Eve came, and then Christmas day.

In the McCormick household it was an ordeal as with each year. They piled on their Sunday best, got dragged to church then tried to treat themselves even as the house literally fell apart around them.

In a week, he only saw Stan at mass. Ninety minutes in over one hundred hours, and it stung Kenny harder than it should have. In five months it was the first time they’d been apart this long. Fuck he missed him. Two rows behind the Marshs, Kenny had let his eyes trace every strand of hair, his pale neck, the way his shoulders tensed and released throughout the sermon.

Their families greeted each other only briefly when it was done. Stan went straight for him, pulling him into a hug before Kenny could even speak. Softly, with his lips pressed to his ears he murmured.

“Did you miss me?” It was hotwired to his brain, jolting Kenny away, but those arms kept him in place. He was taller, but Stan had always been stronger than him. Kenny would get away when Stan said so. When he did those molten eyes were burning into him like coals. His own cheeks felt hot. “You should try paying attention next time.” Stan was not smiling. He was deadly serious. There was no way Kenny was imagining that cruel edge to his eyes nor the satisfaction when Kenny gave in and looked away first. “Think of Jesus.”

He didn’t imagine the shiver either. He’d known Stan all his life, so he immediately knew what he was looking at. This was not the self-pitying Marsh who had stepped out the doctor’s office ages ago. This was something different. Kenny knew him well enough to know when Stan was pushing back.

“Merry Christmas, Ken.”

It wasn’t until the Marshs had left, that Eric sidled up to him, nudging him harder than he needed to.

“I guess the pussy grabs back after all.”

“Fuck off, Eric.”

\---

After that, there was radio silence. Kenny texted Stan a couple times, but he never replied. According to Kyle, he was stewing. Kenny had finally managed to piss him off. To think that Stan was three blocks away brooding over this was just all the more unsettling.

It was understandably with reluctance then that Kenny was dragged out of the house a week later.

“Are you sure you’re cool with being here tonight? There’s got to be more exciting shit happening.” Cartman barely looked away from the screen, frowning in concentration.

“You wanted to stay in, we’re staying in. Don’t be a pussy about it.” Eric grunted in the friendliest way he knew how. “Anyway, if I hear one more person say how “cute” I am now I’m gonna start cooking some chilli again.” Kenny snorted, getting himself more comfortable on the couch.

“Alas, the price of humanity. Kyle’s got everyone thinking he tamed you.” Cartman’s expression could have curdled milk, but he didn’t retaliate. Maybe he couldn’t. “So, what about Kyle?”

“What about him?”

“He doesn’t mind that I’m your new year’s kiss?” Kenny fluttered his eyelashes. Eric just snorted his reply, grabbing his beer from the table.

“Miss me with that gay shit, dude. We’re just going to play games, get wasted.” Kenny smirked wickedly, grabbing his own controller.

“Oh, it’s just going to get gayer, baby. I’m gonna pound that ass.” Eric growled in reply and the screen fired up before them.

“I’d like to see you try, faggot.” The gleam was already there. It was always more fun when Eric was riled up, and it was just what Kenny needed; a violent distraction.

They had only been at it for a few minutes though before the doorbell rang. Casting an accusatory look his way when Kenny refused to get up, Cartman got to his feet to answer the door.

“Hey! Happy New...what the fuck are you wearing?”

“Sweats.” Man, Eric was all grunts tonight. Kenny grinned when Kyle only huffed in frustration. Right. He was the gay one.

“You’re staying in? I thought we were going to get Stan and Kenny to talk.” Kenny rolled his eyes. Of course, they were.

“Uh, dude, you know I’m right here?” Kenny jumped. For the first time, he looked towards the front door. It wasn’t just Kyle. Trailing behind him, looking just as reluctant as Kenny felt, was Stan. For a brief second, their eyes met, before both of them quickly averted their gazes. “I’m cool with staying in.”

Kyle was having none of it.

“No way, dude. Literally everyone is heading out tonight. We are not staying in to play fucking Xbox. Besides, I thought you wanted to talk things out.” Kyle was no louder than a hiss, but it carried across the room anyway.

“Drop it, Kyle, Kenny’s not interested.” Until that point, Kenny had had been staring firmly at the TV, but something about that rubbed him the wrong way. Of course, Stan thought this was all his fault.

“Pussy.” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it had come out anyway, and suddenly all eyes were on him.

“What did you say?” Stan replied, even and menacing. Kenny, shrugged, going for nonchalance.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Stan was in his face before he even noticed he’d come inside. Storming for the sofa, he seized Kenny’s wrist, pulling him to his feet. Kenny should have complained about the level of manhandling he’d been put through recently, but the words weren’t out fast enough. They were out of the door before either of their friends managed to say a word.

“Dude...” Kenny dug his heels into the dirt, bringing them to a stagger, but Stan kept pulling. “Stan! Would you fucking listen to me?”

“Shut the hell up.” Kenny stumbled into his friend’s back as he ground to a dead stop just short of his truck. Stan was broader. Stronger. But this time Kenny refused to shiver when he turned around. Glaring at him fiercely, Stan released his wrist to jab him viciously in the chest.

“This shit has gone on long enough. We’re going to fix it.” He was growling and fuck, if it wasn’t sexy as hell. “Right fucking now.”

It was ninety minutes to midnight when Stan pulled him into his car. Twenty minutes later they were once more driving aimlessly through the Colorado countryside. South Park had been left behind miles before, and there was nothing but the declining streetlights and passing pines to guide them. Not even sure how to begin to make conversation, they had fallen into silence long ago.

When Stan veered off the main road, and the final lights had died, Kenny finally managed to speak. Heaving a sigh, he kept his eyes fixed on the dashboard.

“Stan, where are you taking me?”

Stan stayed focused on the road.

“No man’s land.”

“Are you going to murder me and hide my body?”

“Don’t tempt me, McCormick.” Kenny felt his skin raise as Stan growled again. The motor hummed beneath them. “I swear to god. It’s like you do this on purpose.”

“Do what?”

“Act like a total pain in the ass.”

Kenny didn’t reply, not entirely sure what his answer was. After all his motives had never changed. Above all else, number one was always self-preservation.

Yeah, that’s why he’d got into the truck with a man who looked ready to murder him.

They were driving up now, well into the mountains. With every turn of the wheel it started to feel more like a body- dump was in Kenny’s future. And he’d been doing so well at not dying recently.

Finally, they stopped. Stan pulled them into a parking lot that had gone unseen until it was suddenly upon them. There were no signs, no wind in the trees, no snow but the shoveled and forgotten mounds from weeks before. Kenny could only just make out the cool metal cut of crash barriers at the foot of the piles. It was the only sign of human life around.

Stan killed the engine but left the lights and heating on. Turning to Kenny, he looked at him expectantly. Kenny did the same.

And so, the silence continued until finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stan, what the fuck are we doing here?”

The frown descended onto Stan’s face again, curving his lips and eyes, breathing new anger into him.

“I told you. We’re going to work this out.”

“And we couldn’t do that near civilisation, a house for example?”

“Well, I tried that, but you ran away.”

Kenny just scoffed.

“So, you brought me out to the mountains where I’d die of exposure if I tried?”

“Something like that.”

“You’re insane.” That cut the final thread of Stan’s patience. All the frustration broke onto his face, and he opened like a wound, all the hurt spilling out. Slamming his hand onto the dashboard, Kenny jumped in surprise.

“No Ken, I’m pissed off.” Stan’s voice was strained. “Haven’t you had enough?”

Kenny hadn’t seen Stan this upset in a while, and it messed him up. He wanted to keep pushing. He wanted to break him.

“All of this because you’re mad I won’t bang you? Don’t you have other people to take care of that?”

“Fuck you.” That was well deserved.

“Then what do you want from me?”

“I want to know what your fucking problem is?” The eyes on him were like stone. When he said it, his voice was hard, unmalleable and unmovable. “You love me.”

It was like ice water down his spine. Kenny seized up, clenching his fists until his knuckles cracked.

“You don’t know that…”

“Yeah, I do.” He said it immediately. “Kenny, don’t I deserve some goddamn honesty at this point? You’ve been leading me on for months now.”

Kenny’s patience snapped.

“ _I’ve_ been leading _you_ on? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m sorry. What else would you call trying to jack me off while you’re high off your tits on shit from some random philosophy skank?” Stan growled. “And then you act like it never happened? I’m getting fucking whiplash man.”

“You really want to talk about random skanks when you fucked Craig?”

“You know that had nothing to do with him.”

“Yeah, nothing says I’m into you like getting pounded by sleazy drummers in equipment vans.”

“I don’t owe you anything dude! We’re not together.” Stan was red. His cheeks burned hot with shame, but it only made it worse. “Jesus, you’re such a hypocrite. How many co-eds and repressed jocks have you fingered in back alleys?”

Kenny wanted to punch him. Blindly, he reached for his collar, pulling him closer to snarl in his face.

“Don’t talk to me about hypocrites, Marsh. You kissed me and then just took off. Then you show up with Gary two months - _two fucking months_ \- later?” He snapped. “So yeah, I’ll fuck who I want because I never promised you anything.”

Stan pushed his hands away viciously, but Kenny refused to let go.

“No. You rejected me.”

“What?”

“You _rejected_ me, Kenny, that time when I kissed you and then over and over again. Fuck, dude. I can’t take it anymore.”

Stan’s fingernails dug into his skin. Kenny felt the spot burning.

“You’re the one who said we should forget about it.”

“I thought that’s what _you_ wanted.”

Both of them were shaking. Stan’s jaw was tight. His knuckles were white, and he looked about two seconds away from attacking. Kenny was the same. He could see it reflected in his friend’s face. That’s what it all came back to; one stupid summer night and a whiskey flavoured kiss.

Kenny felt himself deflate. Slowly, he let his grip on his friend’s collar slide away.

Stan was an idiot, but he was a coward.

“When did I ever say that’s what I wanted?”

Stan pulled back as well. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed deeply.

“You didn’t have to man. You should have seen your face when it happened. I mean you pushed me away. I thought for sure you’d never speak to me again.” Stan glanced his way. “So yeah. I hooked up with Gary. I guess I thought it’d keep things normal between us.”

Such an idiot.

The conversation stopped dead, words flopping to the floor like corpses. Finally, Kenny replied.

“Jesus Christ…”

It was the best he could manage in this situation. it didn’t help. If anything, Stan got worse, sighing in frustration, he kicked his seat back, resting his boots on the dashboard. Shuffling slightly, he reached forward, and Kenny almost expected those hands to go for him, but instead they went to the glove compartment. Clicking it open, Stan retrieved his emergency cigarettes, one for himself, and one for Kenny.

Kenny accepted it gratefully, glad that Stan had never entirely been able to kick the habit. They had that in common. He let the cigarette be lit for him, watching the light of the small fire pool against Stan’s cheeks. His eyelids glowed with the flame, as his lashes fluttered against the smoke. Kenny pursed his lips, watching Stan push back the strands of hair that fell into his face.

He wasn’t sure when he fell in love with Stan. There wasn’t a moment that he could pinpoint like a town on a map. All he had was that evening with Cartman when Kenny had put a name to a face, and his life had been hell from that day on.

Silently, they cracked the windows open, watching smoke curl into the night sky. The steady hum of the heater churning was the only sound between them. The display loomed behind the wheel, Kenny allowed himself a glance towards it.

23:42

Kenny exhaled as if something was pressing down on his chest. This was how they were going to end the year.

“Stan, I loved it.” Kenny’s murmur broke the silence, making Stan jolt. He clearly hadn’t expected him to talk. Turning towards him, Kenny felt the hope in those eyes like a stab. He pulled his feet onto the seat, curling in on himself because it was all the protection he had left.

Stan was right. He was owed a little honestly, and Kenny couldn’t ignore the force that pressed down on them anymore.

“Jesus, you’re really making me do this.” Kenny inhaled, looking forward into the black. Beyond their little bubble, it had started to snow.

Kenny chewed on his lip. Where did he even begin?

“I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a dick.”

Stan snorted.

“No shit.”

“Do you want to do this or not, asshole?”

“Sorry.”

Kenny scoffed, finally leaning back to relax into his seat.

“As I was saying, what I’ve been doing was messed up. Hell, I’ve been messed up since February…probably before that. I don’t think you get how important you are to me…” Kenny lifted his hand to stop him before Stan could interrupt again. “I know, I know, mixed signals. I got it, it’s just…” He was sighing again. “Jesus, I’m so lame when I’m around you. What the hell do you do to me?”

The noise that came next was helpless, strangled with months of mounting frustration. Stan looked up again, red staining his cheeks like watercolours.

“Just tell me the truth man. Do you even like me at all?”

“Of course, I do.” It was immediate, unwavering, and just enough to restore some balance. “Stan, I’ve wanted you since before you were with Gary, probably for fucking years now. That night, I just freaked out ok? You’d only just stopped talking about Kyle, and then you told me to forget about it. I guess I thought it’d be better to keep things normal between us too.”

Stan didn’t reply at first, instead turning around to toss his cigarette out the window. Gradually, he swivelled back leaning fully towards Kenny, jaw locked in determination.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Kenny scoffed.

“You’re no better yourself, dude.”

“I love you.”

Kenny’s heart stopped. Mouth falling open, he could only stare, and let the words hang between them.

“What?”

Stan growled. Reaching forward, he plucked the cigarette from Kenny’s fingers, taking one final drag before it followed his own out the window. Exhaling, he glared at Kenny.

“I love you, and it’s fucking unfair you made me say it first. I never gave a damn about Gary or Craig, I was just trying to get over you.”

“No luck?” It was a terrible response, but Stan laughed all the same.

“I got something alright.” This time, Kenny chuckled too. He felt wrecked. “Ken, I’m a pussy. I basically told you everything except how I feel about you. I didn’t want to forget about the kiss. I wanted you to rip my pants off and pound me in the janitor’s closet.”

It rushed through him; how those grey eyes slipped to his crotch, how Stan’s breath trembled, how he shook too. All of it.

“ _Shit_.” He meant to only think it, but Kenny had been out of control for a while now. The way Stan’s fingers curled against his thigh told him he was losing grip too.

Then Stan pulled back. Luckily one of them still had his sanity.

“It’s not just that. I mean I want to fuck you… I mean, Jesus, I _really_ want to fuck you.” Kenny groaned- he had to be doing it on purpose- but, Stan just kept talking. “But I also want to get drinks, and see movies, and hang out with you. Kenny, I don’t enjoy anyone’s company as much as I do yours.”

“It sounds like you want to date me.” Kenny expected him to squirm, but he didn’t. Stan just met his eye. Square and confident, he spoke.

“Yeah.” Kenny shivered, then Stan was moving forward, pressing his hand to Kenny’s thigh. “What do you want Ken?”

Kenny examined him, searching his face. He didn’t know what for, but in it he found something he recognised. Stan was exposed, vulnerable, and feeling everything that Kenny had been avoiding all this time. He made it look so easy.

Exhaling sharply, Kenny took the plunge.

“I want you.” He said, and he reached forward. Curling his fingers around the base of Stan’s neck, he pulled him closer until their cheeks brushed. Slowly he pressed kiss after kiss against Stan’s skin. His ears, his neck, his cheek, every kiss was punctuated with words that had been bottled up for entirely too long. “I want everything.” _Kiss_. “I want to eat with you.” _Kiss_. “Sleep with you.” _Kiss_. “Get high with you.” His voice slipped into a groan, sheer and desperate his lips grazed Stan’s ear. “ _Fuck_ , I want to have sex with you.”

Their patience snapped like a leash. He didn’t know who moved first, but with a whimper Stan’s lips crashed to his. Limbs knocking against the dashboard as they moved, Kenny pushed his seat back, pulling Stan into his lap. Their lips clashed together clumsily as Stan landed eagerly with fingers clutching at Kenny’s hair.

Kenny held nothing back. Pressing his fingers sharply into his sides, he devoured Stan’s kisses. The chain had been cut, and finally between lips, and tongue, and teeth, the words tumbled out of him.

“Stan, I love you.” He slipped his fingers under Stan’s shirt, running them up Stan’s back, and felt the skin rise to his touch. He said it again. “I love you.” He curled his fingertips, scratching his way back down, feeling the weight of Stan’s chest press further into him. With a groan, he slipped his hands down to Stan’s ass, encouraging him to rock against him. “ _Fuck_ , I wanted this so bad.”

Stan groaned, going pliant in his arms and letting Kenny set the rhythm. They rocked together, hardening against the friction and breathing each other in. Slowly, Stan traced his hands down Kenny’s shirt, brushing fingertips along peaked nipples and smirking when Kenny stuttered a moan in response. The smile slipped back into pleasure though when Kenny moved his attentions to Stan’s fly. Unbuttoning, Kenny dipped his hand inside, loosely encircling Stan’s cock that stood pulsing and heavy between them. Kenny didn’t look away, staring deeply into Stan’s eyes as he began to move his hand. Their gazes locked at first, but when Kenny brushed his thumb over the tip already wet with precum, his eyes squeezed shut. His voice cracked when he spoke, his breath hot against Kenny’s lips.

“Ken. _Shit_.” Already hard against his own jeans, Kenny felt arousal flood through him at the sight. He wanted Stan desperate. He wanted him so turned on it verged on painful. Unconsciously, Kenny loosened his grip, watching Stan buckle and gasp frustration. With his face buried in the crook of Kenny’s neck, his hand clenched into a fist against his shirt “fuck, _please_ I’m so hard.”

With a helpless groan, Kenny tightened his grip, and Stan folded in on himself, thrusting desperately into him. Kenny watched enchanted, the lights and the hum and the snow all forgotten until the sight became something else entirely. The need to touch Stan, to feel him, quickly transformed into a need to be inside him. Not like this, in a car in the mountains, but in their apartment, in Kenny’s bed as the afternoon sun streamed in through the window. How would Stan look, naked and pulsing when Kenny pushed inside him? Or if he took him in his mouth? If he dipped his tongue between his pale legs and ate him out? The thoughts all rushed to his cock, and once again he slowed his pace.

“Stan, come here.” Kenny reached for him. Threading his fingers through strands of jet hair, he pulled him into a kiss. It was slower this time, deliberate. Kenny let his lips linger so he could taste and tell everything they needed to share. Rising from his seat, Stan’s trailed his hands up Kenny’s thighs until finally they closed around his cock.

“What do you want, Ken?” Stan murmured against kiss bruised lips. Through light kisses, he freed Kenny’s erection, sighing when his fingers closed around it.

“Cum with me.” Christ, even his voice had changed. “I want us to. Together.” Eyes clenched tightly shut, Stan only nodded, as gradually he matched Kenny’s every pull and squeeze. The hand around his cock had Kenny reeling, and soon he was pushing against the edge himself. He could feel it pulsing through his body, white and hot and building. Biting into Stan’s lip, he pushed Stan’s hand away and brought their erections together. Both of them swore at the contact, viscerally taking what they needed. Stan’s hand joined Kenny’s around them and soon they were pushing together, thrusting frantically into one another, gasping and groaning each other’s names. Stan was getting close; his speed was picking up, and the murmurs grew more garbled as the tension built inside of him. Kenny was helplessly pulled along.

“Stan, when we get home I want to fuck you properly.” Stan didn’t open his eyes, but he faltered, turning his cheek against Kenny’s lips, giving him direct access to his ears. “Just like this, I’m going to open you up then push my dick inside you.” He was completely gone now, with nothing but a litany of swears tumbling from his lips. It was enough. Kenny was barely holding on himself. “I’ll take you apart.” The words dissolved him. Stan jerked harshly as he came, dragging Kenny over the edge with him.

Together, they collapsed onto the seat, warm and panting.

It was nothing like Kenny had ever felt before. He’d been in flux for days now, and it seemed suddenly that things were settling. Above him, Stan huffed a small laugh into his neck.

“Fuck, that was…we gotta have sex soon.” Kenny chuckled in reply.

“Yeah?”

Stan stayed where was, drawing patterns lazily over Kenny’s arm. When he spoke, it was with the same note of relief.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been dreaming about it since you molested me.” He said cheekily. Kenny just rolled his eyes.

“Right…sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s a spank bank favourite. I got myself off right after.”

“Me too.” Now they were both laughing. Running his hands affectionately up Stan’s thighs, he nuzzled into that hair, just enjoying the moment. “You realise we just hooked up in the dark, in a car in the fucking mountains. This is exactly why white people get killed in horror movies.”

“Look at me, dude, I’m nothing if not a stereotype.” He voice was a soft murmur, and when Kenny replied he felt the affection bloom inside him.

“Rednecks through and through.” Stan pulled away from his neck to face him. There was an understanding in his eye as if he could understand the words even without them being spoke. When he kissed him this time, it was soft, gentle. It was love.

“Happy New Year, Ken.”

00:59

“Happy New Year, Stan.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

With no grace and no regard for the cum now dried into his shirt, Stan tucked himself away and clambered out of Kenny’s lap. Throwing himself into the driver’s seat, Stan paused to pull Kenny into one last kiss before he fired up the engine and they drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was meant to come out New Years 2017 which really says a lot about the state of my life.   
> But here it is! Finally! Sorry for the wait but I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Would love to hear your thoughts!


	7. Stan

Stan and Kenny dumped their bags in the entrance hall of their Denver apartment six days later. It had been almost three weeks since they’d left, and finally out of his parents’ reach, Stan just wanted to collapse onto the floor in relief. Better yet, he wanted to drag Kenny to his room and forget the world for a weekend. Unfortunately, there were things to do; guests to entertain.

With a couple extra days left before they were due back at college, they’d invited Kyle and Cartman to spend the weekend in Denver before heading back. Stan was more than happy to have them (Kyle more than Cartman let’s be real), but he hadn’t had a moment alone with Kenny since the car, and already he could hear the nagging in the back of his mind that the spark would fizzle out. He couldn’t let that happen.

 “So, what’s the plan tonight?” Kyle asked, stretching once the weight of his bags was dumped on Stan’s bed. Stan went to his drawer, pulling out a set of pyjamas to use that night. At least with them in his room, Stan had been delegated to Kenny’s bed.

“I dunno. Go out. Get hammered?”

Kyle grinned.

“Works for me.”

“Kyle just wants to get a good look now that you and Ken are butt buddies for real.” Cartman said, dropping onto the bed. Where Stan expected him to be told off, Kyle just looked at his boyfriend. Stan may even have seen a smile there.

“He’s not wrong.”

It was never not going to be weird.

When Stan later closed the door behind them, coming face to face with Kenny in the kitchen, he finally addressed the arch-rival elephants in the other room.

“You know, those two, I’m starting to get it.”

Kenny hummed his agreement as he rifled through the cupboard.

“Don’t ever tell them but they’re perfect for each other.” With a cry of triumph, he pulled out a bottle of rum and a packet of fruit rolls ups that had probably been there since they moved in. He tipped the bottle towards Stan with a promising grin that sent anticipation running through his gut.

“I guess you wanna smoke too.”

Popping the lid open, Kenny took a swig straight from the bottle. The drops clung to his lips like copper. Behind him, Stan heard his bedroom door swing open, but his mind was elsewhere. Unthinkingly, he licked his lips. Kenny looked at him like he knew exactly what he was thinking.

“You’ve read my mind, Marsh.”

In the shelter of their apartment, the evening ran away with them. It was fast approaching midnight by the time they finally got their boots on and left the house. Stan and Kenny took them to their usual bar near campus. With low prices, live music and a notoriously lax attitude towards fake IDs, it was a popular place for students. So, it was unsurprising that they found it heaving with people reuniting before the semester got going.

Cartman managed to clear them a way to the bar and later a high table towards the back of the venue for them to stand around. A beer in hand, Stan kicked back to listen to the band currently on-stage playing… something. Stan wasn’t sure what it was, but it sounded vaguely familiar once he got past the rum and weed that was like cotton in his ears.

Stood where they were by the back door, the crowd was too dense to see anything, but he could tell they were nearing the end of the set. Live music always stopped at midnight after which the DJ and dancing took over. Sure enough, within minutes the song ended to howling cheer, and the house music began. Stan was jostled backwards as waves of students made for the bar. In their pushing, Stan was pressed away from his friends and against the back wall, losing his drink in the process. He tried to move at first but after several attempts allowed himself to relax against the wall until the rush was over. He was safer where he was.

That was until the wall at his back gave out from beneath him. In an instant, Stan stumbled backwards through an open doorway. Still a little tipsy, it took him a moment to catch on to what had happened. It took longer yet to realise that there was another wall at his back, this one much sweatier, more alive.

“Stan?”

_Oooooh no._

He froze. Deja-vu got him good, snapping up his muscles in a stone-cold deadlock. Of course, the music had sounded familiar, he’d heard it before.

Of course, this would fucking happen right now.

With all the effort he could muster, Stan turned around, but nothing could have prepared him for what met him.

“Fuck.” It slipped out. Clearing his throat, Stan tried again. “Hey Craig.”

Craig looked as disaffected as ever in a v-neck and dark jeans that Stan was quickly learning were his go-to gig outfit. There was a towel hanging from his shoulders, and he must have just finished playing because small beads of sweat were still rolling down his neck, pooling in the cloth. He smelled of exertion.

Craig didn’t say a word, but he got over his surprise faster than Stan. His face went flat but his eyes were burning, singing Stan’s nerves. Glancing down, he saw the round tips of drumsticks gripped firmly in his hand. Craig would probably go for his eyes first.

It was their first time meeting since the incident, and of course, it had to be in the same narrow corridor which two months ago had seen them gripped by violent kisses on their way to that damn van. The fire door had slammed shut behind them. On the other side, Stan could still feel the thump of the bassline. He could hear the crowd, a roaring, living thing an entire world away. Between them, everything was quiet until Stan tried to get away.

“Right…uh…cool seeing you...”

Craig was lightning fast. In one strike, he cornered Stan, hoarding him against the brick wall. He pressed his forearm against the stone, eclipsing the light and looming over Stan like a fucking dementor.

 “What the hell are you doing here?” Craig was livid. Stan could hear it in every syllable.

“What am I…? It’s a student bar, dude. What the fuck do you think?”

“Cut the shit, Marsh.” Craig clenched his teeth, making a muscle jump along his jaw. Above his head he heard the light rattling of drumsticks on brick. “You got some fucking nerve showing up here after the crap you pulled.”

He was in his face now, hissing hotly. Unlike last time, it made Stan recoil. With a scowl of his own, he pushed back.

“You don’t own the bar shithead. How was I supposed to know you were playing tonight?”

“The posters were everywhere you fucking idio-“

The shove hit Craig in the chest. Stumbling, his back hit the other side of the corridor, and there they stood barely a metre apart, glowering.

Craig slid the drumsticks into his back pocket, unconsciously bringing a hand to his chest where Stan had pushed.

“You ruined my chances with Tweek.”

“You gave me chlamydia.” Stan shot back instantly, but Craig only scoffed.

“It takes two, dipshit.” He sneered. “And you weren’t complaining.”

 “Fine.” Stan growled. “You gave me chlamydia, _then_ ignored me when I tried to tell you, _then_ told Clyde I was stalking you.”

“What? Clyde made that up on his own.”

“Why didn’t you correct him then, asshole?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“You didn’t think it mattered?!” Stan was losing his temper. What had started as a growl was now full-blown yelling. “You told him we hooked up because you felt bad for me!”

“I did feel bad for you.” Craig said, and leaned against the wall, folding his arms calmly. Somehow, his indifference just made it all worse. Stan was lashing out before he could stop himself.

 “Oh, thank you. I’m so honoured I could be your pity fuck.” He snapped. He should have left it at that and just walked away, but after everything that had happened Stan had yet to learn one crucial thing: he always took it too far. “Screw you, Craig. Tweek deserves better than you.”

Any and all pretence was dropped instantly. In a flash, Craig advanced on him with his teeth bared. He didn’t stop until he was in Stan’s space, both of them seething. As close as they were, Stan could see the stubble on Craig’s jawline, he saw the flush of anger on his cheeks. He needed to shut up or Craig would punch him for real.

“You better watch your fucking mouth, Marsh.”

Yeah, that had never been his style. Stan lifted his chin with a haughty laugh, defiant to the last.

“Or what? You’ll give me another disease?”

Craig’s hand shot for his collar to haul him against the wall for a punch, but Stan fought him every step of the way. Struggling relentlessly, he tried to twist out of the grip on his shirt, feeling it stretch from the stress. Craig was just as stubborn, keeping his hold locked, but Stan had his arm caged. He couldn’t lash out if he tried.

That was when the door opened.

 “Dude, what the fuck.”

Kenny and Kyle spoke simultaneously. Holding the door open in stunned silence, their eyes went from one to the other leaping to undoubtedly insane conclusions. Cartman stood behind them, but where the other two were gawping in surprise, his eyes lit up in delight. Alone in a corridor, pressed together and tearing at each other’s shirts, Stan knew how they must have looked. With a sudden alarm, he jumped away.

“This isn’t…” But Kyle was already shaking his head, probably trying to scrub the image from his mind.

“Whatever man. We’ve been looking for you. Let’s just go before you get us kicked out.”

Kenny hadn’t moved at all, and suddenly Stan found himself incapable of anything but looking his way. Kenny was unreadable and for a second Stan was overcome by a needling panic that this alone might set them back weeks. He was so caught up in it that he didn’t notice Craig’s eyes on them, nor when he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, that’s just fucking perfect.”

Stan was too distracted. Kyle’s words, the opening of that door served as a reminder of the rest of the world. Some things that were hard to let go, but Stan’s anger deescalated quickly. Sure, Craig was a dick, but what else was new.

Besides, when had he ever cared about what people thought of him?

 “Sorry, yeah, forget it.” Readjusting his shirt, he cast a final, cursory glance Craig’s way. “Tell Clyde what actually happened, asshole.” He turned away.

Unfortunately, the truth was: always. Stan had always cared what people thought of him.

Which made it all the worse when that flat, nasally voice just kept coming.

“Have fun getting dicked down by McCormick. Hope it’s worth the clap.”

Everything stilled but the sharp hiss of Kenny’s breath. Craig’s words hung between them like the smell of rot, but still Stan tried to stay calm. He drew a deep breath, reminded himself to keep a level head, that it wasn’t worth the trouble.

Then he turned around and hit Craig with a right hook right in his smug fucking face.

His friends all exclaimed at once, balking at the sudden punch. Craig was knocked off balance, only catching himself mere inches from the floor. There was a moment of pause where their eyes met and they declared war, then Craig lunged forward, landing that punch he’d been threatening since they’d started. Stan vaguely registered Cartman cheering behind him, then Craig smirked at him and pulled the plug on the last of his rationality. He didn’t have time to take in the scrape on his cheek or anything his friends were snapping behind him. Stan charged mindlessly forward, bringing them both to the ground.

It had been years since Stan and Craig had been in a fight, now they hurled punches at each other like they were on the clock. Violently cursing each other out they grappled on the floor, trying to get enough of a standing to land another hit.

At first Craig had the upper-hand. He was a drummer. While his body was lean, there was a hidden strength in those arms that he used to his advantage. But Stan had worked in construction and conservation all summer. He had a body with endurance. Craig managed to land one more hit, catching Stan in the shoulder, before Stan got his legs around him. In one swift movement, he was on top, and with his left hand he pinned Craig down. His right fist was clenched and ready to attack when the water splashed over them.

Stan jolted to a stop with a yelp and a shudder at the cold and the ice cube that lodged in his shirt collar. Remembering where he was, he dropped his fist and turned to see what the hell had happened.

Cartman hadn’t been the only one jeering. The sound had attracted attention from behind them and soon enough there was enough noise to alert the bouncers. One of them stood above him now, an empty pint glass in hand and a scowl on his face. Behind him, Cartman was still laughing.

.

They got kicked out.

No surprise there.

Significantly less than sober, the four of them trudged through the slush and the dark, slowly making their way back to the apartment. They had mostly gone quietly. After getting dragged out by the collar like a disobedient dog, they hadn’t had all that many options, and three blocks later even Cartman had simmered down to a steady grumble. Kenny was at his side caught somewhere between irritation and amusement as he usually was when it came to his friend.

Stan was walking ahead of them, more than happy to let Kyle distract him. He wasn’t quite ready to face Kenny. Instead he let Kyle inspect the damage, pressing his fingertips to where blood had bloomed at his lip. Craig had got him good, but the cold air was soothing most of the burn. They always had left the nurturing to Kyle, it came more readily.

 Touching a finger just below the graze on his cheek, Kyle huffed a sigh.

“You’re such a fucking idiot sometimes, dude.”

Stan let out a small laugh even when the movement stung his split lip.

“You’re just mad I got there first.” He said, and a familiar glint appeared in Kyle’s eyes.

“After that shit he said? You bet your ass I am.” First to nurture. First to throw fists. Kyle was as big a mess as any of them. Stan chuckled, contemplating his friend fondly.

“I’m sorry I ruined the night again.” Kyle’s eyes went from him to the cut on his lip and back again. Dropping his hands, he shrugged dismissively.

“Please, this is nothing new. ‘Sides I’m pretty sure any night that ends with Craig getting punched in the face is a win for Cartman.” That was something. Glancing back, Stan could see that neither of their friends seemed to be in a particularly bad mood. Maybe he was overthinking it. Through his laugh, Kyle kept talking. “Maybe check on Kenny though.”

Stan turned back to him with a frown.

“Huh?”

“You’re chickening out. I can see it on your face.”

It really was so much easier to be in denial when Kyle wasn’t around. Stan shuffled uncomfortably, dropping his voice so the other two couldn’t hear them.

“I just don’t really know what he’s gonna say. He makes me so nervous dude.” Stan admitted, and it was surprising how easily the words came. Kyle always made it easy. He made it comfortable. It was one of the things that drew them together.  

Stan felt a hand pat him reassuringly on the shoulder.

“I get it, dude. I do, but you’re going to have to get over that.” He said, but there was no pity to it. It was his style to give everything in straight facts. “What are you so scared of anyway? We’ve known Kenny all our lives. You know who he is, and you know he likes you. He isn’t suddenly going to be different now.”

Stan kept his attention fixed to the ground. All those gay little speeches growing up had paid off. Kyle was a hard guy to argue with. But there was still one thought that had been knocking about Stan’s head for months now.

“And if it doesn’t work out?” He asked reluctantly.

“The only reason it wouldn’t is if you go in with this half-assed attitude you have right now. Stan, you like him a lot, anyone can see that. What you need to do is go for it.” Kyle replied, and of course, he made everything seem so simple. Stan watched their steps through the slush, mulling it over. Eventually, he hummed his agreement and Kyle knew he had won. Grinning, he punched Stan lightly in the arm. “Goddamn you’re a drama queen sometimes. Cartman and me were less of a ball-ache than you two.”

Now, that stung.

“Yeah well, drunk hook-ups are like that. You just got shitfaced.” He said, rolling his eyes but was surprised to see Kyle slow down to frown at him.

“What? I’m not you, dude. Cartman took me on a date.” He said. The corners of Stan’s mouth dropped in surprise.

“What? When?”

“This summer. You were at camp. I mean don’t get it wrong, he seriously twisted my arm into it. I’m not saying it was smooth sailing, but yeah…”

Stan was completely disarmed. He must have stared long enough for Kyle to catch on because his confusion was swapped for pure, unencumbered exasperation.

“You thought I dumped you for him.”

“Well, I didn’t _not_ think that…”

“You fucking dumbass.”  It really was open season on Stan tonight. So why the hell was he laughing? That party had been nearly a year ago yet somehow it felt like another lifetime. Once again turning to his friend, he grinned at him, asking a question he probably should have a while ago.

“We’re cool right?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, but his smile was a mirror of Stan’s. No words were required.

“Shut the hell up. Just go.”  He grinned, and with a smack on the back pushed Stan back towards Kenny.

Kyle always had been deceptively strong. Stan stumbled forward with a yelp only regaining his balance when the grey of Kenny’s worn-out sneakers came into view. Travelling up his body until finally settling on his face, Stan felt a weight lift to see that Kenny was smiling at him. Brightly and broadly. God dammit, he was handsome.

“What’s good, Stan, you get the all-clear from Nurse Broflovski?” Kenny asked. His voice was light. He looked downright entertained. “You guys looked cosy.”

Stan’s heart dropped. Straightening up, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Kenny, that wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Really, ‘cause it looked like Kyle was calling you an idiot for overthinking and jumping to conclusions about his love life again.”

Stan stopped short, falling into step with him.

“Ok no it was exactly what it looked like then.”

Kenny snorted.

“You don’t have to be so nervous man.” He grinned, nudging him as they walked. “Sure, we had a rocky start, but I trust you more than anyone. I’m not going to lose it every time you talk to someone you slept with.”

Stan stared at him stunned.

 “Me either.” He said.

Still grinning, Kenny threw an arm around Stan and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Besides, I don’t think you and Craig are gonna be hooking up again any time soon.”

 “Thank fuck for that.” Stan snorted, leaning into the touch.

They continued on in silence for a bit until Stan managed to drum up the courage to ask.

“Does that mean we’re- you know?”

He didn’t finish the sentence but cocked his head to the side. Kenny hesitated as if the thought had never occurred to him. When he spoke again, he proceeded with caution.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” The reply came quick and sure, before something occurred to Stan. “Just to be clear, I’m asking if we’re exclusive. If you want to be my boyfriend? Because I would be totally into that.” His tone was all business, and to his surprise, more than anything that had happened before, this made Kenny blush. Slipping his arm off Stan’s shoulder, Kenny brought his hand to his face, unable to look him in the eyes.

They came to a halt. Totally blindsided, all Stan could do was gawp at him. It only made Kenny redder.

“Fucking hell, Stan stop looking at me.”

He couldn’t help it. It was too fricking cute.

“Is that a yes?” Stan closed in on him. With a delighted grin, he nudged at him with his elbow, being sure to get as up in his face as possible. “Hey, Ken…Ken? Is that a yes, Ken? You want to be my boyfriend? Ken? Babe?”

Admittedly he probably deserved the palm to the face, but he yelped anyway, stumbling back a step. When he regained his footing, Kenny was smiling at him, flushed with happiness. Taking his hand, Kenny pulled Stan in closer until they were chest to chest. Their palms pressed together, burning dry and hot with poor circulation in the winter cold. Bringing them to his lips, Kenny pressed a small kiss to the back of Stan’s hand. As he pulled away he spoke:

“Yes, you dork. I’ll be your boyfriend. Now, let’s never say that weak shit again.”

Stan felt the heat spread from his palm, to his arm until it finally pooled in his chest. He gave Kenny’s hand a squeeze and they grinned at each other.

Only Cartman spoke.

“I can’t with these fucking homos.”

His edges weren’t sharp. Kyle elbowed him anyway, but just as he was beginning to whine, he put his arm around him. With a hand in Eric’s hair he pressed a kiss to his temple, murmuring something softly in his ear. Stan didn’t hear what it was.

He wasn’t listening.

.

Kenny’s mouth was hot against his. Stopping only to pull Stan’s shirt over his head, he moved with determination, running warm hands up Stan’s sides. He let himself be manoeuvred across the bedroom, ignoring how his feet tangled in the mess from earlier in the night. He was focusing on Kenny. Behind him their track of cigarette fumed clothes lay forgotten.

It was different from how it had been in the car. Stan could still count on one hand the number of times he had kissed Kenny. When their bodies pressed together, and their lips met it was still new to them. But without the urgency and emotional turmoil from New Years, they could take their time. They kissed slower now, losing themselves to the feeling until Stan’s knees hit the back of the bed.

They came to a stop. Nothing had happened yet, but Stan could feel himself approaching the climb. Last time this had happened it had sent them both careening out of control.

Kenny’s hand was in his hair, fingertips carding softly through the strands. Stan’s scalp had grown hot and cold with sweat several times over that night, but this was the first time it sent a shiver through him.  

Kenny chuckled softly against his cheek.

“You’re nervous.”

Pulling away, Stan smiled at him. His own hands moved from the base of Kenny’s spine, running palms across his bare shoulders. Kenny’s skin was smooth there. Tracing along the sharp edges of his collarbones with his thumbs, Stan allowed the rush that only came with the contact of bare skin.

It wasn’t nerves.

“You make me a total mess, Ken. Sometimes I have no idea what to say.”

Stan couldn’t see his face; Kenny was too close, but he could feel the curve of a smile against his cheeks. He could fidget at the flutter of blonde hair against his temple. So, Stan looked to the ceiling, letting his body observe for him. Kenny’s fingertips moved from his scalp to his neck, tracing circles on the sensitive skin that shot right through him. Lips moved from his mouth to his jaw, kissing the skin softly, Kenny murmured.

“Stan you think too much.”

Stan chuckled around the small hums of pleasure Kenny drew out of him.

“Pot, Kettle.”

He received a similar laugh in reply.

“I’m learning to turn it off.” He murmured through another kiss to Stan’s throat.

“You’ll have to teach me.” Stan sighed softly. It mattered less what he was saying; the release in his tone stirred something in Kenny, and he pulled back enough to look him in the eye.

“Don’t worry so much, man. You’ve already got me into bed… well almost.” His grin grew wicked in challenge. It wasn’t something that Stan fell for often. He was not particularly competitive, but there was something unbearably alluring about making Kenny lose control.

Kenny had said he would take him apart. Stan would repay in kind.

With a promising grin, he made firm his grip on Kenny’s shoulders and turned them around.  Kenny let himself be moved, yielding to the pressure when Stan pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.

Standing above him, Stan grinned.

“You’re eager, McCormick.”

The reply was in the way Kenny looked at him. No longer soft, his longing had turned to hunger.

“Yeah.” He said, and it came out just as he intended: _of course,_ _look at you_. Kenny’s hands found Stan’s hips. His fingertips weren’t languid this time, they moved in exploration. Sliding them behind Stan’s back, Kenny urged him even closer until his lips met the tight skin just above his belt line.  

Stan let his head loll, digging his nails into the muscles of Kenny’s shoulder when he licked a broad stroke from his belly button to the edge of his jeans. That tongue sent heat through him that pooled heavy in his cock. Half hard since they’d first kicked the door shut, Stan’s breath grew laboured as Kenny’s attentions moved lower. With his hands still running along the base of Stan’s spine, he started to mouth at his dick through his jeans.

“I wanna blow you, Stan.” He said, breathy and desperate and it was too much. Stan couldn’t stop the moan. His nails though blunt were going to leave gouges on Kenny’s shoulders the way they were biting. He’d thought about it before; Kenny on his knees, mouth open, letting Stan take what he wanted from him. But that wasn’t how he wanted it tonight.

“No.” Kenny stopped immediately, looking up at him in confusion, and it was so cute that Stan smiled despite how turned on he was. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to Kenny’s lips, murmuring against them. “I mean yes. Ken, forever yes, but just not now. I want to do this for you.”

Stan sank to his knees. Kenny caught on immediately, parting his legs when Stan moved in towards him. Both their hands went to his fly, and they laughed when it quickly became a struggle of who could get Kenny’s pants off faster. Stopping just short of getting kicked in the face, Stan got them off, tossing them theatrically across the room. Kenny laughed as he massaged Stan’s shoulders.

“You’re such a dork sometimes.”

Stan bent over into the fold of those legs. He kept a firm grip on Kenny’s thighs, nipping and kissing all the way.

“That’s no way to talk to someone who’s about to suck you off.” He said, adding a bite into the muscle at the junction of Kenny’s hip and thigh. He noted in satisfaction the way Kenny’s breath hitched then delighted even more at the jolt his bite solicited.

“I wouldn’t be talking at all if you were any good.”

Always poking, always egging him on. It thrilled him. With one final kiss, he was at Kenny’s crotch. Kenny’s cock brushed against his cheek, hard and throbbing. He breathed in and it was overwhelming. He smelled of sex, intoxication and more than anything else, himself. It was entrancing and enough to labour Stan’s breathing before he’d even touched him. Stan wanted to swallow him, engulf him. He wanted Kenny inside of him.

He could see the strain in those thighs, and the way Kenny’s hands were now ruthlessly gripping the sheets, trying to endure it. Stan was starting to get why Kenny liked to see him squirm.

Stan was not nearly patient enough to be as cruel as Kenny. However, he more than made up for it in intensity, especially when he finally parted his lips, sinking himself all the way onto Kenny’s pulsing dick. Stan forgot himself, moaning at the taste and Kenny snapped a swear, twisting the sheets even tighter in his hold.

“ _Christ_ , Stan.”

He hummed his agreement then began to move back to the tip, letting his tongue play around the head, enjoying the words it sent tumbling from Kenny’s mouth. He kept moving from root to tip. It was thick in his mouth, Kenny’s hips canting forward unconsciously so that he could go in even deeper. Still he kept his hands gripped to the sheets.

It was sweet, but Stan didn’t want restraint. Without looking, his hand found one of Kenny’s on the bed. He tangled their fingers together, giving them a little squeeze, he brought Kenny’s hand back to his scalp. Quick on the uptake, Kenny tightened his grip, but he didn’t take control. He let Stan set the rhythm, the entire time keeping the reminder that he was there.

It was all Stan needed. He took him in to the base. Opening his eyes, he looked up just enough to catch Kenny’s eye before he swallowed. Kenny convulsed unexpectedly, coming into Stan’s tightened throat. Stan took it all, bringing his lips to the head to savour every moment.

He pulled away when the grip in his hair slackened. Slipping his hands to Stan’s jaw, Kenny pulled him up. This time when he kissed him there was nothing sweet about it. Kenny was raw and filthy as his tongue plundered Stan’s mouth, chasing the taste of himself. They were both out of breath by the time they stopped. Gasping, Stan wiped his chin.

“Damn dude.”  

“Men who don’t kiss after head are weak.” Kenny grinned, and he sounded so dead serious it made Stan laugh incredulously. He indulged in it. When was the last time he’d had fun during sex?

With a smile, Kenny inched back on the mattress. Stan followed on his knees, showering him with kisses the entire way.

“Why’d you never tell me you give brain like you’re giving out college degrees?” Kenny said as he hooked his arms around Stan’s neck and nuzzled. Stan laughed, leaning into it.

“Right? Where’s _my_ damn scholarship?”

“That is how I got mine. I eat ass like a pro.”

_This fucking guy._

Stan collapsed onto him, biting at his neck. It was a reasonable punishment for all the stupid shit he said. Kenny stopped laughing, but the self-satisfied smirk remained even when his hand slipped between them to cup the bulge in Stan’s underwear. Pressing into the touch, Stan’s eyes fell shut as he groaned. Kenny’s hand inched beneath the fabric.

“ _Fuck_.”

“You’re shivering, Stan.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“I have, haven’t I?” Kenny mused as he slowly started to stroke Stan’s cock. “Is this what you wanted to happen then? Did you want to get on your knees and choke on my dick? You looked so pretty like that.” Stan whimpered, sliding off Kenny as he was gently rolled onto his back. The mattress was hard against him, he couldn’t have got away if he wanted to. As it was, he canted into Kenny’s hand, totally at his mercy. “Or did you think about it being me on my knees for you? You said you jacked off that night…” He moved in closer, voice thick with promise. “Did you touch yourself to the idea of fucking me Stan?”

“-N-No.”

Kenny’s smile was nothing like before when they were just holding hands. This one was intense and almost taunting. He looked like he wanted to devour him.

“No?” He repeated. “Are you sure?” Kenny’s hand slipped from his dick to knead his ass.

Jesus, this guy was going to wreck him.

“Not fucking you…” He panted. “I- I wanted…” He corrected himself, “I want you inside me.”

How did Kenny do this to him? Over and over he pulled at the knot in Stan’s tongue, unravelling it like silk ribbon. Stan’s words came faster than his thoughts could form until he became _this_.

However, Stan was slowly catching on; whatever power Kenny held over him flowed both ways.

“ _Shit_.” Kenny bit his lip, flipping Stan onto his front in a sudden rush of strength. He dove in, raining kisses down Stan’s spine, scratching fingernails down his sides until Stan trembled. Then Kenny’s hands found his ass and he began to knead. It shot sharp sparks right to Stan’s dick until he was leaking with precum, rutting against the sheets for any kind of friction. Kenny slipped his underwear off slowly, tracing its’ path down Stan’s legs with his tongue.

That tongue touched him everywhere from his sensitive inner thigh to the back of his knee to knot at his ankle. Kenny had not even touched his hole yet, but it was quivering from anticipation. All over his skin ached from the contact. His senses were geared to a hundred. At this rate, Stan was going to cum from a single finger.

Only when Kenny finally made it back up his leg he didn’t use his fingers. Squeezing Stan’s ass, he spread him apart so he could feel the brush of cold air at the sensitive skin. He knew what was coming, but nothing could have prepared him for the first touch of Kenny’s tongue against his hole. Kenny held nothing back, moaning hungrily, lathering Stan’s hole with wet licks until his toes curled; until his entire body shook; until all that could escape him was dry, desperate sobs.    

“Ken.” He pleaded. “ _Ken_. _Fuck_. Please…” He didn’t finish his thought. When he tried to speak, Kenny just squeezed harder, went deeper, robbing Stan of all his sanity. He came rutting against the sheets like a stray, convulsing under Kenny’s touch.

Kenny didn’t give him the chance to recover. His hands gripped Stan’s hips tight, pulling him onto his knees. He was behind him, leaning back on his haunches and their thighs collided with a warm slap of skin. Stan curled his hands into the sheets, trying to stay upright but he quivered when he felt cool fingers glide along the curve of his ass. He’d been so lost in his orgasm that he’d missed when Kenny had retrieved the lube, squirting it generously on his fingers. He felt it now leaking from his hole; dripping between his thighs.

Closing his eyes, he let those fingers sink into him.

“Fuck, Stan, you should see yourself.”

His back arched. His eyes fluttered. Kenny added another finger.

“ _Christ_ , don’t talk to me right now.”

“Why? You seem to like it.” Kenny was panting. He was so aroused; Stan could hear it, but still he sounded just so unbearably smug. “I’m just getting you ready. Shit. I’ve been thinking about this for months. Stan, I want you to know I much I want this.”

When it came to falling apart, Stan had lost spectacularly.

His forehead dropped to the sheets. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt himself being opened. He revelled in it. Him and Kenny.

“Me too.” He gasped, turning around he finally looked at him. Kenny’s eyes were fixed on what he was doing. He looked entranced as he slowly pushed his fingers into Stan. His other hand was squeezing his own cock as if he was barely holding on. Even after cumming both of them were hard again. Wave after wave, the arousal just kept rolling.

But it was more than that. In the dim light, Stan saw all of him. There were bruises littered across the pale expanse of his chest. Lord only knew where they came from. Kenny was slim, but his fingers, his arms, his neck everything about him was graceful. Stan loved all of it. In that moment he was lost to what that body had seen. What had it felt?

“Now. Ken. Do it now.”

Kenny nodded, retrieving the condoms. The scene played out in his mind and the images reflected across Kenny’s face like memories. Stan could see other mouths on those lips. Other people’s hands on his cheeks, flickering in reflected street light across his face. Stan couldn’t look away.

It was alarming how quickly the feeling came, possessing him all at once. He wanted to reach out and wipe those faces away, to smother him with Stan’s own fingerprints.

With the weight of Stan’s eyes on him, Kenny turned away from what he was doing. He looked up to Stan and the painting was complete. A warm smile in the dim light. Stan was remiss to resist, a need to touch overtaking him. And so, he did.

It was awkward to reach behind him, but Stan moved through it. Kenny’s cheekbones were warm and unwavering to his touch, dropping sharply to his jawline. Stan traced his thumb along the skin, feeling the steady grains of midnight stubble. Kenny had started shaving before all of them, baptising his face with drops of blood every morning for months. The cuts had healed by now, and Kenny had shaving down to an art, but Stan imagined a beard would suit him.

Stan didn’t know what he would find in Kenny’s eyes, so he didn’t look. He traced everywhere else, watching his thumb press against lips unaware of how much time passed. It could have been seconds, maybe hours. He didn’t feel it. Only the shiver of fingerprints on lips.

“You’re beautiful.” Someone had worded his thoughts, but it wasn’t him. Looking back to Kenny, it was him who had spoken. Kenny was looking at him with as much reverence as Stan felt, and it was astounding. How was this mutual?

“Come here.”

Stan did as he was told. Leaning back, he felt the press of Kenny’s cock at his hole. Both of them were wet and dripping from the lube, already he could feel his hole pulsing with a need to give, to be filled. Kenny’s hand snaked up his front until it splayed across his collarbone, cupping the junction between his chest and his neck. He pressed down just enough for Stan to feel it in his throat. Kenny’s breath was hot, nipping at the curve of his ear.

“Sit, Stan.” _God his voice._ It sent a tremor through his thighs. Stan burned with it. Shifting his weight, he let himself go and pushed onto the thick weight of Kenny’s cock.

Kenny’s breath hitched. His forehead fell against Stan’s shoulder, and he swore as if he were receiving communion.

“ _God._ ” He began to thrust. “ _Fuck_ , Stan.”

Stan had been in love before, but Kenny never had, not like this. It showed in his touch, steady and reverent it had Stan’s heart beating out of his ribcage. In a sharp tug, Stan’s head was pulled backwards and plastered against the warm, damp expanse of Kenny’s shoulder. He couldn’t focus, he could barely breath. The position made it difficult for him to move beyond a grind. All Stan could do was surrender to Kenny, and push back against his thrusts, meeting every desperate movement with a need of his own.

In his haze, he tilted his head to the side. Kenny was so close, biting into his shoulder and thrusting into him mercilessly. Stan’s cock was throbbing to the point of pain but if he did anything about it, he would slip and fall face first into the mattress.

As if reading his mind, Kenny reached around him gripping his cock. Stan didn’t know where he got the purchase from. He didn’t much care, but Kenny rocked into him with a fervour that only came from being close. His thrusts were erratic and unpredictable; when his dick brushed Stan’s prostate Stan lost it. Swears came plunging from his lips, he ground himself backwards, trying to draw out the feeling.

The movement messed up their rhythm and his balance, but neither of them cared. Every thrust after that, Kenny followed with a purposeful grind, rolling into Stan until he tightened and neither of them were coherent.

In the haze of it all, Stan only seconds away from cumming, Kenny looked at him with his cheeks flushed and his pupils so dark they swallowed him whole and Stan decided balance be damned. It didn’t matter so long as he could kiss him in the moment they came together. With a final strain, he moved to kiss him.

Their lips met for a second, sloppy but exactly what they needed. The strain from Stan shifting, twisted him around Kenny and neither of them could hold on. With broken moans, they came, breathing each other in and cum spilling all over the sheets. Then gravity took hold, Stan slipped off the ball of his foot and toppled onto the mattress. Kenny went down with him, both of them reeling at the sudden loss of equilibrium while they were still on the comedown.

It was probably why their reactions were so delayed.  

Neither of them could move let alone laugh. Kenny stayed on top of him, gasping heavily as the minutes played on. Beneath him, Stan shuddered at the cum now splattered on his stomach. Even when is sanity returned his mind was still whirling.

“Wow.” He gasped. It brought Kenny back to life. He pulled out with a groan.

“Like a pro.” He repeated. Stan just snorted. Tying off the condom, Kenny threw it in the general direction of the trashcan. When Stan rolled over, he crawled sluggishly over him. Kenny made his way down, pressing sporadic kisses over his chest until he came to the mess on his front. Without a second thought he licked it up, humming to himself happily.

Stan couldn’t believe it.

“You’re a freak McCormick.” He mumbled, still too wiped out to move. Kenny only grinned.

“I should’ve known you go cold after sex.” He said against the muscles of Stan’s stomach. Sighing dramatically, he kissed even lower. “Woe is me. I fell for a fuckboy.”

“Shut up and get over here, you giant douchebag.”

With a laugh, Kenny obeyed and curled into Stan’s arms. His fingers found Kenny’s hair, playing with it absentmindedly to lull Kenny into a doze. It wasn’t long before sleep took them both.

.

Kenny woke a few hours later to the cooling side of an empty bed. It took him a moment to understand, dropping in and out of sleep a few times before finally waking enough for his thoughts to move beyond the bed. Stan caught the first stirrings as Kenny stretched, and tilted his head to watch his boyfriend move. The tangled sheets slipped away from him and he slowly and languidly got dressed. With sleep-weary steps, he made his way across the room.

Kenny took a seat across from him just where the window cracked open. Their apartment was old, so the windows were set deep into the wall with more than enough room for both of them. Every time they sat there, they talked about how they should get some cushions and make it a real spot. To this day, it was bare of everything but creaking wood and an overflowing ashtray. Stan stared at it, letting his mind empty.

In that moment he took stock of everything. It was hot in the bedroom, stale from heaters and warm bodies, but a breeze whispered through the window. It was 4am. Outside, Stan could make out a siren in the distance, and the remote sound of traffic, but their apartment and street outside were silent.

The glug of water was loud in the quiet room. Kenny poured two glasses; one for Stan and one for himself. They had left the lamp on by the bedside, but by the window, it did little more than pool at their ankles.

Stan was barefoot in only a shirt and boxers, dragging his right foot along the floor and curling the other onto the peeling paint of their seat. His leg was hiked up onto his perch on the bay where it reflected pale against the streetlight. He was curled in on himself, absentmindedly brushing his lips against his knee. The January air felt cool against his skin. He was comfortable.

 “Do you remember Gregory?” Kenny stirred, at his voice, still only half awake. He considered him then wordlessly shook his head. Stan rested his head against the frosted glass. “He was this English kid from elementary school. He was only there for like two weeks. I wonder what happened to him?”

Kenny tapped the glass with his finger, letting his head fall back against the wall with a small thud. When he spoke, his voice was rough with sleep.

“What happened to any of them? People were always coming and going. Think of Glenn.”

“Casey.”

“That French kid- what was his name- Christian?”

“--Gary.” Stan murmured. At first, Kenny didn’t reply, but only looked at him curiously. It wasn’t jealousy. Stan could see in his eyes that he was trying to figure him out, tracking his thought process like footprints in the January snow. “It’s pretty amazing we made it here at all.”

Kenny smiled at him hesitantly.

“Dude are you still high?”

Stan huffed a graceless laugh.

“Maybe.” He chuckled “It’s just cool you know? Like, of all the things that have or could have happened we’re here, and together, and it’s just such an amazing coincidence.” All through his rambling, Kenny’s smile was growing.

“Are we going to have all our serious relationship talks like this because I’m sensing a pattern?” Stan rolled his eyes at him but couldn’t fight the smile.

“I’m trying to tell you I’m happy dick face.” In that moment, with his eyes still heavy and his hair messy from sleep, Kenny looked like he was glowing.

“Me too.” He said it quietly, like he couldn’t quite believe it. It hit Stan right in the chest. He felt like he was bursting.

“Come here.” Stan set the bottle and glasses on the floor. Reaching his arms out, Stan let his legs fall apart, making room for him. Kenny moved closer, turning his back and relaxing into the cradle of Stan’s body. His back was warm against Stan’s chest. When his hands came up to fiddle with Stan’s fingertips, they sent a tingle up his arms and down his spine. Stan rested his chin against soft strands of blonde hair, breathing him in. “I love you, dude.” It still sent a thrill through him to say it.

Below him, Kenny snorted, curling his neck so he could better look at him.

“Dude?” He said incredulously. “What kind of straight boy confession is that?”

Stan grinned, letting one hand go to pinch him in the sides.

“Yeah man, I don’t want you thinking I’m gay or some shit.” Kenny’s laugh was feather light.

“What a scandal that would be.” He replied, then shifted again as if realising something. “Damn, so the whole my dick in your ass thing, that’s a no go?” Stan broke into a laugh of his own.

“Just say no homo first from now on.”

“You ask so much.”

“What can I say? I’m top shelf.”

“You’re supermarket brand and you know it.”

Kenny’s attentions had moved away from his fingers to his wrists where he was now drawing slow circles against his pulse point. Stan felt the hair on his arms raise in response. Goosebumps erupted up his arms to which Kenny pressed small kisses all the way from wrist to elbow. Stan smiled softly into his hair.

“That tickles.” It was whispered. In it they heard all the love, all the devotion flowing between them like a stream. In the dim light, Kenny turned back again, tilting his head and granting Stan access to his lips. They kissed slowly, deeply, intimately. When they parted, Stan looked down at him stunned.

“I love you too.” Kenny was smiling. His cheeks were flushed with happiness. Then something sparked within him; that mischievousness that had always made Kenny so damn sexy. Biting back a laugh and raising his eyebrows, he winked at Stan. “No homo.”

He couldn’t help it, tightening his arms, he squeezed Kenny until his laughs became gasps for air. Still, Stan didn’t let go, but only loosened his grip. Exhaling into the crook of Kenny’s neck, he spoke.

“Fuck, you’re such an asshole.”

“And still you’re into me.” Kenny grinned. He used inflections when he spoke almost to the point of singing. Stan sighed in resignation.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Awesome. Wanna date some time?” Kenny was fidgeting in his grip, twisting so they were almost face to face. Stan laughed, pressing a casually kiss to his temple, and running fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to check with my boyfriend.”

“No worries,” Kenny smirked. “Craig can come too.” Stan snorted, pinching him more viciously this time and grinning at the yelp it garnered.

“Dickhead.”

“You love it.” Kenny quipped. Finally sitting fully up, he ran a hand along Stan’s jaw, letting it curl into the loose strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Leaning in close, he brought their noses together with a smile. “And you better get used to it, Marsh. I’m going to be around for a while.”

Stan melted into a smile.

“I think I can work with that.”

Hooking his arms around Kenny’s neck, he tilted into the kiss and let himself be pulled back to bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I wanted to get across is that Stan is used to comfort. He likes what he knows. We’ve seen it on the show. I wanted it seen in the people he surrounds himself with. It’s why he dated Kyle, Wendy, and Gary. He’d rather be comfortable than take risks.  
> On the other hand, Kenny values his friendships with the guys (and his sister) above everything. He hasn’t got much else going on. But once he got over the fear of losing Stan, and started to focus on the potential they have, I bet he’s all about taking risks.   
> Kyle and Cartman are 100% do now. Agonise later.  
> .   
> This story was a monster. All I wanted was to flex my smut writing muscles. In fact, I originally planned for five chapters, done by Christmas. Somehow that morphed into a 35K fic and two and a half years of my life. Lord knows how long my multi-chap fic with actual plot is going to take. 
> 
> Thank you so much for joining me in this. I really hope you had fun!


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